Standby
by d8rkmessngr
Summary: He was glad Bones was dating again. He was. Really. But what Jim thought was good for Bones turned out to be oh, so wrong for Jim. Kirk/McCoy first time.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Standby

**Author:** d8rkmessngr

**Pairing:** Kirk/McCoy

**Warnings:** implied past abuse, attempted non-con, strong language

**Author's Notes: **This was a prompt from st_xi_kink: I will miss that meme! Also, many apologies for not having replied to the wonderful feedback on the previous two stories. I'm embarrassed to say I am completely new to this FF thing. A friend on LJ just walked me through replying reviews! (face red)

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"...so _this_ guy here turns around, reaches over and bam! Hyposprays the Andorian. The blue guy's antennae twitches and then he drops to the floor!"

_Hyposprays don't go bam_, Jim thought as he drained his bottle of beer. The music in the bar was actually too loud for his tastes this time, but he didn't pick the place for once. It was too mainstream, too popular with cadets; a place he and Bones would never had normally gone to.

"That's not the sound a hypospray makes," Bones grumbled but his mouth quirked at the storyteller and he chuckled deep in his throat. Something funny twisted in Jim's insides and he grabbed the Cardassian Sunrise to try and drown it. The sour taste of cold alcohol mixed begrudgingly in his stomach. Great.

Blue eyes, sun streaked blond hair, the athletically built third year cadet flashed Bones a shit-eating grin before leaning in and—whoa!

Bones rolled his eyes but returned the kiss with a nip of teeth before he gave the guy a gentle push back with a hand, like pushing back a big dog from bowling him over.

"You're scaring the kid, Adam," Bones laughed throatily, sounding like a complete stranger to Jim. He shot Jim an embarrassed grin across the table. Jim smirked faintly, but said nothing.

Adam gave Jim a passing glance, his eyes crinkling, his mouth curled up to a smug smile as if he knew no one else knew. "Nah, he's probably taking notes." Adam snickered when Bones sputtered into his drink.

"Or just _reviewing_ notes," Jim drawled and felt a wiggle of satisfaction when Bones coughed into a fist, his eyes wider.

"God damn it, Jim!" Bones managed as Adam pounded his back helpfully. Adam gave Jim a grin that Jim didn't feel like giving back, but he did anyway because he hadn't seen Bones smiling this much in the eight months they knew each other so far. Well, he did tell Bones repeatedly he needed to get laid, but geez, Jim wasn't expecting _him_.

"I guess everyone weren't kidding about you being a manwhore, Jimmy," Adam chuckled as he swung his beer bottle towards Jim for a toast.

It wasn't anything new, nothing that hadn't been tossed out at him before from many faces, but somehow it left a bitter taste in his mouth when Adam said it in front of Bones. And Bones probably didn't like the reminder of who his classmate was because Bones pulled back, the smile pretty much gone from his face.

"Not something I would toast to, Adam," Bones muttered, reaching over to lower his arm.

"I would," Jim quipped.

Before Adam's bottle dropped, Jim shrugged one shoulder, pushed back the lump in his throat and reached over to lightly clink the amber bottle with his drink. He drained the rest of his Sunrise in a single gulp and damn if that didn't make his eyes burn. It was the drink that made his eyes water, his throat clench. Jim grabbed his last beer and tipped it towards Adam again then to Bones.

Bones grimaced and he twisted around to stand.

"Need another drink," Bones muttered and gave Adam another kiss on the mouth, Jim a halfhearted slap to the back of his head before he disappeared into the crowds writhing to the loud twenty-third century's answer to hiphop.

"Get m-us another one too!" Jim hollered behind a cupped hand over his mouth as he gestured with an empty bottle in his other hand. Bones verified these orders received with a hand gesture rude enough to probably destroy three planetary truces. Jim smirked and dropped back into his seat. Adam mirrored him, nodding and smiling to those who walked by and smiled hello. Adam eyed some, winked at others and Jim grimaced as he finished his beer because he could remember nights when he had dragged Bones to other loud and crowded places where he did the same. Only he preferred townies and not cadets. Too much of a chance of trouble following him back to the Academy.

Jim watched the dancing, too tired to try and think up conversation with Adam. There was only so much polite banter he could make with a guy he really didn't care to talk to for the past three weeks. Jim rolled the now empty beer bottle between his hands as he stared into the crowd, trying to pinpoint Bones. He watched the dark head weave around the crowd, pulling further away and somehow, it made his insides knot and his chest ache.

The squeak of leather to his left was his only warning. Jim blinked and Adam, with that crooked lazy smirk of his was just there, his hip pressing hot next to his.

"So," Adam purred and Jim felt a large hand slide slowly around his upper thigh, down to cup his groin with a hard squeeze, hard enough to hurt. Adam leaned forward, his breath hovering over his mouth and Jim could smell the tang of whatever pissy-ass fruity drink Adam had. Another hand slithered behind his back, edging along the waistband of his jeans.

Oh no fucking way.

Jim could see his reflection in Adam's eyes as they darkened. They looked like the sky before a storm approached.

"So," Jim just said evenly and reached down a hand and pulled Adam's away, out of sight under the table. But then Adam narrowed his eyes and using his other arm, yanked Jim closer until Jim was halfway on his lap. Jim grimaced when he recognized a classmate from Advanced Transporter Programming frowning at them. He was leaving with group of friends, all cadets (just his luck). Jim gave the guy a nod even as he fidgeted away from Adam and smiled to show nothing was wrong but Jim was ignored as they walked past their table.

"Maybe I should see if Bones is back there having our drinks," Jim said stiffly and he made to rise.

"Or," Adam said in a deep voice, his hand back on his left thigh. His fingers dug deep into Jim's leg with surprising strength and pinned him back down on his seat. Jim looked sharply at Adam.

"You can stay and show me how much of a manwhore you really are," Adam breathed next to Jim's ear and his fingers flexed, digging deep enough to draw blood.

There were two responses Jim usually relied on when faced with a hand touching him where it shouldn't. As a child, there was nothing he could do about it, because doing anything more than agree meant him running into "another door" or "falling down the stairs".

Jim had always been such a clumsy and graceless child.

If the owner of the hand was pretty, an encouraging smile usually got that hand off and that meant Jim could decide where _he_ wanted that hand to go next. If the owner of the hand was a stranger who thought seeing Jim smile was an invitation to shove anything into Jim, _Jim_ decided where _his_ hand would go; i.e.: across a jaw, into the solar plexus or if he was being a real son-of-a-bitch, a good grab of whatever hurts the most, which usually lies between the legs.

Adam, unfortunately, was pretty but he was also _not_ a stranger. Both of Jim's options were no longer options but definitely not a situation Jim couldn't handle. Sure, he failed his first _Kobayashi Maru_, but this wasn't a no-win situation.

Jim smiled tightly, the opposite of Adam's hungry one. He wondered if he himself ever looked like that (he hoped not, it left an oily film on his skin) and he clasped Adam's wrist with a strong grip, over the sleeve. Jim learned at a very young age that skin doesn't bruise as easily that way but it can still hurt.

"I don't think so," Jim said evenly as he removed the hand. His eyes narrowed at the flicker of something that twisted the normally jovial face to something less...jovial. But it was gone so quickly Jim shook his head. Damn bar lights were giving him a headache. Everything felt surreal.

"Sure I can't convince you?" Adam's voice dripped with invitation.

Jim rolled his eyes. Adam had been friendlier the past few weeks. Jim had hoped it was because he was warming up to him. Jim really tried to include Adam into a routine that both he and Bones had enjoyed when there weren't any classes. If Bones didn't look so relieved they were getting along, Jim wouldn't have bothered.

"Bathroom's in the back. I think we can be pretty good."

..._This_ was not what Jim was aiming for.

Adam slid back to his seat, his knees slightly apart and he slumped back, echoing eerily like how Jim used to hog up the sofa in Bones's room when they used to hang out pissed drunk in the med dorms.

Used to.

"I don't think you should be having this conversation with me," Jim commented, his tone even and flat. Maybe Bones should order some coffee for Adam instead. He glanced over to the bar in the back. He could make out Bones still trying to get a bartender's attention. Jim turned back to Adam, an eyebrow arched. "I don't think," Jim said slowly as he nodded towards Bones's direction, "you should be coming on to me like that." Adam's eyes hardened and his knowing smirk faltered. Jim flashed a full-toothed grin at Adam.

"Not that I'm not flattered, but Bones might not be too happy if he hears—"

"That _you _came on to _me_?"

Jim's smile faded but then returned sharper, more brittle.

"I think you should stop drinking, because your memory's starting to get shot. _I'm_ buzzed but I can still remember that _you_ came on to _me_." Jim glared as Adam shuffled back closer again.

"And who do you think Leonard will believe?" Adam breathed close to his face. Blue eyes glazed and darkened as they crawled over Jim's body. "His boyfriend? Or a guy like you?"

Jim narrowed his eyes.

Adam's hand crept back over to his upper thigh. Adam's smile was sure, almost feral and it distorted his face. Youth warped and suddenly Adam looked older, more calculating, demon-like under the pulsating reds and blues the bar lights were flashing above them.

Then, just as quickly, when the rotating colors switched from red to blue, Adam's face smoothed out to that lazy, careless grin again. Smug bastard.

"You wanna try telling him? Go ahead." Adam's fingers kneaded Jim's thigh under the table and Jim's skin crawled. "Ruin the one good thing he's got after so long. Even if he forgives you despite who… well…" Adam sneered. "Who you are, he's going to look at you with doubt after that, because you destroyed this for him."

"Might as well have some fun," Adam whispered into Jim's ear. "Not like someone like you hasn't taken it up in the ass in a place like this before." Adam's thumb pressed into his inner thigh. "I saw how you've been watching me. I know what guys like you want, _Jim_."

Jim's lips curled back and he leaned in close enough that their noses touched. Adam smirked, parted his mouth and inched closer when Jim hissed.

"It'll be pretty hard to jerk off if _both_ of your hands are broken," Jim sneered.

The touch on his leg thankfully retreated and Adam glowered at Jim. Somehow, Adam looked insulted more that there was possibly someone out there who wouldn't gladly take him up on his offer.

Jim caught movement approaching their table out of the corner of his eye. Adam did as well because in a blink he was back by his seat, grinning up, warm and glad when Bones eased into his seat next to Adam with a drink tray.

"So what I miss?" Bones asked with a crooked grin as he grabbed his usual: bourbon with no ice.

Jim ignored the smug look he could feel pointed his way. He reached over, took his beer and nearly dropped it when he felt a socked foot pressed into his inner thigh. Geez. Jim very calmly reached under the table with his other hand and pinched a nerve just under the Achilles' tendon. Hard. He hid his smirk behind his beer when Adam jerked. Jim scowled though when Bones accepted Adam's explanation of a cramp easily enough.

"What took you so long anyway?" Adam asked, moving to the next topic with an ease that annoyed Jim. If _he_ tried it, Bones would have seen through it and called Jim on it.

"Whole bar was mobbed with panting, drunk, grabby, horny kids over there, trying to get me to buy them a drink," Bones grumbled.

"Oh," Adam snickered as his eyes slid towards Jim's way, "you didn't tell us your friends were coming too, Jim."

Jim smiled tightly and tried to not think about how much his chest ached when Bones rolled his eyes. Jim took a long draw of beer, enough so his head floated, his body numbed and the knot in his chest dulled.

"Jim?" Bones frowned mildly when Jim stood.

"Going to say hello?" Adam quipped, his eyes on him as he draped an arm around Bones's shoulders. It wasn't pushed away.

"Sure," Jim said, shrugging, his throat working, "why the fuck not?" He waved off Bones's frown with a smirk that hurt on his face. "Don't wait up."

"What else is new?" Bones joked, his smile easy even as he lightly punched Jim's arm.

Jim scoffed but didn't reply. He turned around, got as far back to the bar until he knew he was hidden in the crowd.

And slipped out the back.

* * *

More tomorrow!


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Standby

**Author: **d8rkmessngr

**Pairing:** Kirk/McCoy

**Warnings:** implied past abuse, attempted non-con, strong language

**Author's Notes:** This was a prompt from st_xi_kink: st_anon, thank you for this meme and getting me into writing in this fandom!

* * *

Jim should have skipped Transporter Programming class that morning.

News travelled fast in a Starfleet Academy. It'd probably reached god damn Iowa by now about James T. Kirk molesting his friend's boyfriend. There was no point in trying to clarify it was the other way around. Why? If it was that easy then to believe he broke his arm tripping on the ground, it was just that much easier for people to believe he was groping Bones's boyfriend while he was away. No point. Fucking waste of oxygen to try.

But if his shoulder got bumped one more time...

He didn't need another reprimand though. Not after working so hard to convince the instructors to let him skip the prerequisite entry level of this subject. He aced the first term of Transporter Programming and was now doing well in this third year course. Jim was still determined to do this in three years. He just wished everyone—student and faculty—didn't look so surprised. Except Bones. He just told Jim this meant Jim was tutoring him for when he had to take it next term. But that was before Adam.

From his seat, not getting up even though the class was dismissed, Jim eyed the cadets filing out, pretending not to eye him. Hm. Interesting. Half of them looked disgusted, the other half leered.

It didn't help that most of these people knew Adam. Third-years tended to gravitate towards each other like cluster stars as they steered towards their final year. Jim recognized some of them from the bar last night, a few 'Adam groupies' who had collected around him in the dining hall. Like some clique in high school. Something Bones usually had no patience for.

When the lecture hall was finally emptied, Jim eased out of his seat and trotted down towards the exit but a shadow crossed the doorway, blocking his escape.

"Next class here won't start for another ten minutes," Jim called out. He set his jaw when he saw that the shadow didn't move.

"I think that gives us _plenty_ of time." The shadows slithered back when Adam stepped into the dim lighting of the lecture hall. Back in his cadet uniform, the pips on his collar proudly indicating his third year status, Adam looked more polished and like a Starfleet poster child with his blond hair slicked back, clean-shaven, clear blue eyes and white teeth.

Jim scoffed. "Well, I'll leave you and your right hand alone then..." Jim stopped short at the doorway when Adam wouldn't budge.

"You know, Leonard was a little disappointed you didn't stay last night." Adam rested his left shoulder against the door, just shy of the sensors to keep the doors shut.

"You should have stayed. I think we could have convinced him into a threesome." Adam grinned toothily and Jim wanted to gag.

"Two for the price of one. Give me a chance to see what's got Leonard so obsessed."

Jim rolled his eyes, unsure what Adam was babbling about and seriously, he didn't _care_.

"Sorry, I'm a strictly one-on-one kinda guy," Jim quipped.

Adam stalked over and stood eye to eye with Jim.

"Not what I hear." Adam's eyes drifted down Jim's body, his lips curved and he hummed his approval. "Not what I'm told." Adam tilted his head. "And I've been told a lot, farm boy."

Jim narrowed his eyes. "Maybe you should ask _Leonard_ to check your ears."

"Why? He was the one who told me."

Ice clawed at his insides. Still, Jim kept the smirk on his face. Bones wouldn't do that. In fact, Bones used to get pissed off when Jim laughingly repeated the shit he used to hear about himself.

Adam was apparently hoping for a different reaction and getting just the disinterested smirk tossed back at him twisted his normally handsome features. He growled, his right hand whipping out to grab Jim by the left arm, twisting it behind Jim and slamming him to the wall.

Jim grunted as he found his cheek smashed up against the wall and—you got to be kidding—something hot and hard rubbing frantically against his ass.

"I don't know why you're playing hard to get now," Adam hissed from behind as he pressed closer and Jim's shoulder burned from the strain. "Especially after all those weeks flirting and hanging around with us like some love sick—"

"What?" Jim ground out, his disbelief muffled against the flat surface. Great, this is what he gets trying to be a nice guy before. "You are fucking stup—forget this."

Jim slipped a hand under him, between his chest and the wall, pushed off the wall, felt his shoulder pop as he twisted around and jammed a knee up that obscene bulge he felt rutting him before.

There was a mean line of satisfaction to see Adam stagger back, eyes watering, his hands cupped between his legs.

It was a cheap shot, not something he would teach in his Hand to Hand combat course, but hey, whatever worked.

"You," Jim huffed, "have a problem and I suggest you sort it out before Bones find out."

Adam straightened—with some difficulty, Jim noted with a smirk—and he wiped his upper lip with the back of his sleeve.

"Find out what?" Adam gasped but he looked smug as he gestured wildly behind him. "Empty. Your word against mine." Adam huffed, too winded to laugh. "Half the campus is waiting to see when _you'll_ jump _me_."

Jim shrugged. "That's just half," he snorted.

"Which half you think Leonard will believe?"

Jim stared at the door, his jaw clenching.

"Being a slut is a hard habit to break," Adam taunted. "The stuff Leonard used to tell me..."

Jim's teeth clicked angrily. He glanced over his shoulder and Adam tensed, his fists up.

Jim's hard look melted into a smirk.

"Might want to get some ice for that," Jim drawled and nodded towards Adam, who was still protectively covering himself. "Although the swelling might finally get it to normal size with the rest of us." He strode towards the door. If Adam said anything, it was cut off by the door sliding shut behind him.

Jim leaned against the wall by the door and exhaled slowly. He straightened his uniform with one hand. His left shoulder throbbed. Damn it.

"Geez, Kirk, you couldn't wait until after classes?" a cadet muttered loudly as he walked by with a group of other cadets. Someone said something else and a few disgusted glares were tossed his way.

Jim, chest heaving, set his mouth. Another deep breath, his mouth reshaped to a lazy and uncaring smile. He stepped away from the support of the wall and, using his right hand to support his aching left arm, Jim walked down the hall in the opposite direction.

* * *

It wasn't until after his third class did Jim realize that the ache on his left shoulder wasn't going away like he figured. He couldn't even shrug now. The throbbing was distracting and took too much of Jim's concentration to focus on it than on that blank look he was wearing all day.

Jim stood in front of the Academy medical center, lingering at the front steps, trying to remember if Bones had class or a hospital rotation today. He rubbed a thumb lightly over a spot where his shoulder joint met his collarbone. If it would stop flaring like a plasma burn for just one second, maybe he'd be able to remember.

Finally, Jim decided it wasn't worth the chance of possibly running into Bones (and running the risk he open his mouth and say something that would fuck everything up). He turned on his heels.

"Ah, ah, ah! Wrong way, Jim, my boy!" An arm hooked loosely around his neck from behind, jerking him back. Jim reacted but at the glint of brown and green blinking at him, Jim pulled his punch back and staggered.

"You're lucky I didn't follow through," Jim panted before his arm dropped. "What are you doing here?" As soon as the question was out though, Jim inwardly grimaced.

Bones favored the question with an arched eyebrow. "What am _I_ doing here?" He huffed and grasped Jim's right elbow with a determined grip. "Come on, kid, the hospital's _this_ way."

Jim dug in his heels. "What? Wait..."

"Your shoulder's bothering you, right?" Bones said, not turning around; otherwise, he would have seen Jim's eyes narrow.

"How do you know about that?" Jim demanded. He tugged but couldn't get his arm back. Bones wrapped both arms around his good arm and was determined to use it like a leash, forcing Jim to follow; that is, unless Jim wanted to lose that arm.

"Adam told me about you two." Bones jerked when Jim dug his heels in. He looked over his shoulder at Jim with a mild frown.

"Adam?" There was a funny taste in his mouth.

Another eye roll. "You know, the next time you two are going to wrestle it out in the gym, use gear, okay?"

A little stunned although it could be that the throbbing had crawled up to his neck now, Jim numbly followed until they reached the general treatment area where Bones helped out in. Jim stared at the back of his friend's neck.

"Bones, actually, I—"

"Found him?"

Jim bit back the snarl when he saw Adam limp out from behind a privacy screen. Adam smirked, his eyes doing that damn scan up and down his body again.

"Still walking?" Jim drawled as Bones led him to an empty cot, next to Adam's unfortunately. Adam's eyes slitted but his face smoothed out as soon as Bones nudged him towards the biobeds.

"No thanks to you," Adam quipped as he hopped on the bed to Jim's right. He grinned at Bones, a hand lightly brushing against Bones's back as he passed and Jim felt an urge to go over there and punch him.

Bones grunted as he waved a tricorder towards Adam. "You're lucky you just pulled a muscle," Bones chided as he pressed a hypospray to Adam's neck. "Jim's an assistant instructor for Advanced Hand to Hand."

Adam grimaced, rubbing his neck as he looked over to Jim, his eyes narrowing.

"Your boy plays rough, Leonard," Adam joked. He lightly tapped a fist on his right thigh. There was a glimpse of teeth as the corner of his mouth twitched.

"I'll just have to be more careful next time."

* * *

Jim sat on the cot, making a point to stare at the wall and the illustrated crosscut hologram of an Andorian male. Gross. He could hear Bones and Adam through the privacy screen that stood between them. Murmuring, chuckling, the shadows merged and then separated occasionally out of the corner of his eye. Jim kept his eyes forward, his jaw set. He wanted to say something, to march up in there and say...

Say what?

With a scoff, Jim rubbed a thumb over his shoulder again. Nothing he said was going to be worth shit. Never was. It didn't matter if he was ten or twenty-three.

"Okay, your turn," Bones declared. He darted quickly to block the opening, his arms spread apart. "Where do you think you're going?"

Jim glowered but he wasn't in the mood to fight. Not with Bones. Not over Adam. He shrugged (tried) and hopped back on the bed. Jim checked to his right but there was no shadow.

"Wanted to get a better scan of that groin muscle he pulled. Make sure it's just that," Bones murmured as he unhooked Jim's cadet uniform jacket, his eyes crinkled to reflect the frown when he saw the shoulder. Bones made an annoyed sound against his teeth.

"Dammit. And you were going to duck out from coming here?" Bones scowled but his hands were careful when they cupped the swollen round joint of Jim's shoulder.

"It's not dislocated," Jim mumbled as he warily eyed the hypospray Bones had clipped to a belt. "I know what a dislocated shoulder feels like."

"Yea?" Bones said, distracted as he pointed the tricorder towards the inflamed shoulder. "Get a lot of those, huh?"

Jim's eyes clouded. "All my life."

"What?" Bones looked at him strangely.

"Nothing." Jim tested rotating his shoulder and he hissed. Sure enough, Bones frowned at him.

"I said it wasn't dislocated, Jim, but if you keep pushing it, it will be."

No, Jim thought bleakly. Not the left one. The right one, however, popped easily though. He bared his teeth at his friend.

"Can I get a sling?"

Bones snorted. "I can reduce this easily enough. You won't need a sling."

"Yeah, but looking like a wounded—Dammit, Bones!" Jim jumped. He didn't even see the hypospray coming.

Bones grinned, unapologetic, as he discarded the nozzle head with a quick flick of his wrist into a nearby bin. He pressed gently at the shoulder again and harrumphed.

"Swelling should go down in a few minutes."

Jim grumbled as he eased back into his uniform.

"Next time, watch it with Adam," Bones advised. "Not everything's a bar brawl, okay?"

Jim bit back a scoff. For some reason, Bones's remark stung. He kept his eyes on the fasteners of his jacket.

"Hey, Bones?" Jim said quietly after a few beats.

"Hm?" Bones mumbled as he cleared his medical kit, ever mindful of cleaning up after himself. Just like his Bones; always a doctor.

Jim paused, his fingers halfway up his jacket.

_His?_

"Jim?"

"Uh...nothing...just..." Jim tentatively shrugged. He was glad his shoulder felt looser now. "It's been a few weeks with you and Adam, huh?"

To Jim's surprise, Bones's ears pinked. The older man coughed and he was suddenly fascinated with his tricorder.

"Yeah, I guess." Bones crooked a grin at him. "Guess that was a surprise for you. Shouldn't have wasted all your time trying to pick up girls for me, kid."

Jim laughed, but it felt funny in his throat. "Man, if I knew it was the wrong set of chromosomes, I would have asked you out mys—" Jim stopped short.

"Yeah, well, luckily for you, I met Adam. You can keep the girls." For some reason, Bones looked weary, how he used to look every time he finished talking with his little girl (when that ex of his let them talk, that is). Jim wondered if Adam was there now when Bones called. Jim used to sit in the back, not listening to the conversation, but ready to pour a bourbon when Bones was done.

"Yeah...Lucky," Jim finished awkwardly. His legs swung over the edge of the cot. "Hey, Bones...he's a good guy, right? I mean, you two are...I mean..." Jim groaned inwardly. He could feel a flush coming up his neck, hidden by the collar.

"Aw, what is this?" Bones dropped an arm across Jim's shoulders, careful not to put all his weight on the left. "I'm touched. Maybe I should have let you meet Adam first to get your blessing?"

Or not at all, Jim thought sourly. He frowned to himself. What is up with that? Jim bumped his right shoulder against Bones.

"You could probably do better," Jim snorted. "Didn't think he was your type, Bones."

Bones, for some reason, deflated and sighed. "Me neither."

Jim's brow knitted together. "Huh?" He tilted his head up at Bones.

Bones stared at Jim for a long time. His throat worked, an odd expression crossing his face before his arm dropped from Jim's shoulders. Bones cleared his throat.

"We're heading out to this place tonight." Bones huffed as he gave Jim's shoulder one last scan. "Blue Cat or something."

Jim made a face. "Doesn't that place play that old fashioned squawky music you like to listen to?" Jim peered up at Bones with a look.

"_You_ suggested it, didn't you?"

Bones took a playful swipe at Jim's head. He missed. "It's called jazz and yes, _I_ suggested it. We're meeting at 1900."

"I don't know..." Jim was surprised to find himself not saying no immediately.

Judging Bones's raised eyebrow, he was, too. Jim eased off the cot, walking backwards towards the opening. Jim quirked a smile at Bones.

"Maybe I'll see you guys there, okay?"

"Just can't stay away from me, can you?"

Adam's arm dropped over his shoulders from behind and if it weren't for Bones, Jim would have whipped around and broken that arm off.

Adam poked his head out from behind the screen. "All done," he told Bones. "I'm all yours, you lucky bastard."

Jim looked over sideways. His teeth flashed.

"How's the swelling?" Jim fought back a snicker when Adam's mouth thinned. Jim grimaced when Adam's hand curled tighter over his shoulder.

"Watch that shoulder," Bones warned, his voice a little sharp. "I just injected 50cc of cordatazine into his deltoid muscle."

One more squeeze, claws digging deep enough the room dimmed and Adam let go, his face perfectly chagrin.

"Sorry."

"Yeah, sure," Jim mumbled and unclenched his fist before he did something stupid. Ignoring Adam, Jim gave Bones a curt nod.

"See you later, all right?" Bones nodded back as Adam sauntered up to drape an arm across Bones's shoulders now.

Jim forced himself to grin, said nothing else and left, his thumb absently rubbing his left shoulder socket that began throbbing again.

* * *

TBC tomorrow...


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Standby

**Author: **d8rkmessngr

**Pairing:** Kirk/McCoy

**Warnings:** implied past abuse, attempted non-con, strong language

**Author's Notes: **This was a prompt from st_xi_kink: st_anon, thank you for this meme and getting me into writing in this fandom!

* * *

This is the typical shit Bones likes, Jim decided as he took a long guzzle of beer. The music was the deep throated tones of whatever instruments being synthesized, fake non-carcinogenic smoke was pumped into the room for 'effect' but the drinks were cheap and it was amusing whenever Bones closed his eyes in appreciation of one riff, like savoring non-replicated wine, like those expensive twenty-second century vintage shit. Bones was funny that way; he acts pretty old for a not that old kind of guy.

Marriage and divorce probably does that to people, Jim decided before he took another drink.

The amber bottle Jim held with a fist did nothing to block Adam's gaze on him, staring at Jim as he swallowed now with Bones gone from the table. It didn't take a genius to know what Adam was thinking, staring unabashed at Jim's long throat as he drank. He should have volunteered to get the drinks instead but the idea of leaving Bones with a bastard like Adam made his insides knot.

Jim deliberately twisted around in his seat, pointedly showing his back towards Bones and Adam's chairs, to talk to another patron in the next table. Not of his usual tastes, but she appreciated the attention even if they both knew the flirting wasn't going to go beyond the bar.

Bones returned with the drinks and Jim could hear the pair talking, kidding, almost—Jim thought with a pang—like how he and Bones used to.

The phrase 'used to' left such a bad taste in Jim's mouth, he finished the rest of his beer in a single gulp.

The conversation kept going behind Jim and sounded so normal, so ordinary, Jim glanced back over his shoulder to see if he was on the wrong table. He darted a quick smile when Bones paused questioningly at Jim, one dark eyebrow arched in a "What?" at him. But then Adam leaned in, said something and Bones snorted, giving Adam an eye roll. Jim smiled faintly, his throat tight and turned back to the girl—Mary? Marie?

A chair scraped noisily across the floor and Adam's hot breath burned his cheek.

"Having fun?" Adam winked at Mary/Marie who giggled in return. "Mind we borrow our friend here?" Adam draped an arm over Jim. Unseen, under the table, his hand ghosted the curve of his ass. Jim grit his teeth, his hands holding his beer and how easy would it be to swing it right now? Jim smiled, or grimaced, and swiveled back around to the two.

"Too boring for you?" Bones joked as he tipped his shot glass back. He didn't react to the fact Adam's arm was still around Jim's shoulder but at least turned around, his other arm was back on the table.

"I think the people here are too sober," Adam joked and he squeezed Jim's shoulder (the fucker clawed the bad one again) before pulling away.

Bones frowned mildly, his eyes on Jim and Jim fought the urge to fidget and just reached for a new beer. Bones knew who he was before, knew what people often said. Jim gave himself a mental shrug and made a mock salute towards his friend.

Bones opened his mouth to say something when his communicator twilled. "Great," he muttered as he flipped it open and listened intently to the medical alert. His annoyance quickly morphed to a tight-lipped nod and a terse promise he would be there in ten minutes.

"Two shuttles collided midair," Bones bit out. He shook his head at them when they both rose as well. "No. Stay. They're only calling back all available medical to triage, nothing you two can do." Bones eyed the table of drinks with regret.

Jim averted his eyes when Adam pulled Bones in for a hard kiss and a whispered promise of "I'll wait up." Jim nodded to Bones, his eyes glued to him as Bones waded through the crowds with a quick, purposeful stride.

A hand curled around his thigh. Jim jerked.

"Guess it's just you and me now, farm boy."

Jim's mouth twisted. "Nope. Just you." He finished his beer and gave Adam another mock salute. "I'll tell the barkeep you're taking the tab. Thanks." There was no reason for him to stay now.

Adam scowled after Jim as Jim maneuvered around towards the exit.

Even if the smoke was faked, it was still a relief to get out of there. Jim took a deep breath in front of the bar, scrubbed his face with both hands and shook his head vigorously. He didn't need this. Bones was off doing doctor things. Maybe it was time to find his own bar. Like before. Jim's gotten drunk alone before. No big deal. It wasn't. Never was.

Jim stuck his hands in his jeans' pockets, marveling over the fact that his civvies actually felt odd on his skin now instead of the cadet uniform. Huh. Go figure.

The bar at the end of the alley by the Blue Cat sounded loud even from here and beckoned with the gaudy promises of one night stands and people who really don't care who Jim Kirk might be. Hell, they'll probably _welcome_ people like him.

Shrugging, his feet leaden, Jim slipped into the long alley, his eyes fixed on the holo-sign and the few red uniformed cadets lingering outside. Idiots to be in their gear, as if the uniform will guarantee a good night.

Footfall.

Jim didn't pause, pretended he didn't hear it but slowed his steps as if checking for the time. He bunched his fists, thumbs tucked in, like he often advised the class he assisted teaching, ready to swing—whoever he was, he picked the wrong guy to mug tonight—and swung towards the fast approaching shadow.

It ducked, like it knew what was coming but before Jim could register the implication, the shadow reappeared behind him, clamped on to his left arm and gave it a violent wrench back.

Shit, that _hurt_. Jim growled under his breath, twisted to swing out with his right leg but it was deftly blocked with a standard Starfleet response: a fist to the back of the knee, a punch to the back of his head that sent his forehead snapping forward and left him temporarily blinking watering eyes.

Jim grabbed blindly at whatever he could and found a fistful of sweater or jacket, who the hell cared, he just gripped the leverage hard, planted a knee to a solid chest, ready to throw the guy when a textbook kick slammed into his hip and vibrated shocks up his spine. Fuck!

Blood roared in his ears when Jim was slammed back first to the alley wall and his head went _thwack_ on brick. Dots flooded in front of him so Jim couldn't see the shadow pressing onto him and smashing his mouth over his.

Jim hissed into the mouth as it bit hard on his lower lip, drawing blood and a tongue darted in demanding and tasting like bitter whiskey. Jim snarled as he felt something hot, hard, humping his hip even as that unwelcomed mouth swallowed his outrage.

Someone at the end of the alley shouted something like "Get a fucking room, Kirk!" before their footsteps faded away. A chuckle rumbled against him and the rutting renewed furiously, scrubbing Jim against the brick wall, large hands around his throat and the left arm he was sure was definitely dislocated now.

Jim pulled a fist back and slammed it on the nearest thing he could reach: an ear. There was a grunt, a stagger back that was enough to see a face finally, but not enough to break free.

"You!" Jim snarled at Adam before his shoulders were gripped, his left screaming in agony as a thumb dug into the socket and he was slammed back onto the wall again once, twice. At the third time, Jim tasted blood (he bit his tongue) in his mouth and his limbs quivered as his back groaned from the abuse.

"Time to stop playing hard to get," Adam hissed as he fumbled open Jim's jeans.

There was a vague fuzzy overlap of an older guy's face over Adam, a rough voice that spoke at the same time.

"...enough teasing..."

_"Did I not tell you to not talk back?"_

"...see what got him so fixated on you. Taste that ass that he wanted to taste..."

_"You think she cares? She loves the damn stars more than us! I said shut up or I'll make you shut up!"_

Fingers fumbled, someone's panting, a weight pinned him to the wall. There was a sharp bite on his throat and he smelled his own blood. His ribs creaked.

"...know you want it. Everyone knows. Pretty, cocky, whor..."

_"I told you not to talk to her! Who's going to believe a screw up like you? Your own mother can't look at you!"_

"...gonna be real good...just like you wanted...just like we both wanted..."

_"You're only making it worse for yourself hiding! Get out here now! Now!"_

Jim's eyes snapped open and Frank's face splintered, leaving behind Adam's contorted, flushed face inches from his as he grinded against Jim, grimy hands trying to shove his jeans down lower.

With a hiss, Jim snapped his head forward and slammed it on Adam's nose, hard enough Jim thought _he_ blacked out.

"Son of a..." Adam dropped to the ground, his hands clasped over his nose, his jeans down around his hips.

"First thing," Jim grated out. "You leave the Academy. On your own before I—"

"Before you what?" Adam glowered up at him from behind a bleeding, messy nose. "Before you tell them how we groped around in some shitty alley? How James Kirk dicked around with his friend's—" Adam laughed nasally. He staggered to his feet, swaying as he wiped under his nose. The red blood that streamed down his chin made him look pathetic.

"That's what I'm going to tell them," Adam wheezed. "That we got all nice and fucked because you just couldn't keep it in the pants again." Adam swiped at his upper lip and spat to the floor. "You think it was bad before, that half thinking you're a—" Adam coughed and sneered. "Wait until tomorrow. I'll have the whole campus thinking you're a fucking sl—"

Jim swung. Adam never finished and dropped.

"Like I care," Jim hissed to the crumpled figure on the ground. He staggered backwards, his right arm gripping his left and he steered for the direction of the Blue Cat. At the end of it, still under the shadows of the narrow corridor, Jim spit the blood clean from his mouth and with shaky hands, tried to tuck his shirt back into his jeans. Damn it, the button was gone.

Footfall.

Jim closed his eyes, his lips pulled back in disgust. "Adam, you—"

"Adam?"

The hoarse voice threw ice down Jim's back. Jim lifted his eyes at the person that stood three steps from the alley.

Bones stared at Jim, more specifically at his jeans barely hanging off his hips, his mouth slightly open. Jim's eyes slid away.

"Hey," Adam rasped. Standing behind Jim, he made a show of straightening his clothes as he sidled up to Jim. "Leonard...hey...we can explain..."

Bones kept staring at Jim. He cleared his throat but no words would come out.

Jim didn't want to hear it. He _couldn't_. Nor did he want to see what he knew would be on Bones's face. Jim raised his chin up, his eyes past Bones's ear and he elbowed past him, ducking a hand he could feel reaching out to grab him. Jim wasn't in the mood for another beating. Tomorrow. He'll deal with this shit tomorrow.

Jim could hear his name faint in the distance but he didn't turn around. As soon as he ducked into a corner, Jim didn't care if his head pounded, his mouth full of bile, his chest so tight he could hardly breathe. Jim did what always helped him before.

He ran and didn't fucking look back.

* * *

Thank you all for sticking with this story. This story is about eight parts. Nearly there!


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Standby

**Author:** d8rkmessngr

**Pairing:** Kirk/McCoy

**Warnings:** implied past abuse, attempted non-con, strong language

**Author's Notes:** This was a prompt from st_xi_kink: st_anon, thank you for this meme and getting me into writing in this fandom! Thank you for all your reviews! Everyone's been so supportive and motivating!

* * *

The problem with trying to stay clean or _conform_ to some stiff neck, idealistic Academy cadet culture, was that one got spoiled to luxuries like a bed, a plush sofa or a cup of coffee that was still warm.

The hard bench Jim found himself on was hard, damp from San Francisco's morning fog and filthy from neglect because no one came to tiny parks by the cliffs anymore, not when more modernized ones glittered down by the wharf. When he was fourteen, finding a bench like this unchallenged and unoccupied the entire night was gold. Today, as he was roused awake by the beams of morning breaking begrudgingly through a gray sky, it just made him feel sick.

Judging by the smell though, the splattered, sour smelling patch under the bench, Jim _was_ sick.

The second he caught himself checking the time on his watch (he lost his communicator somewhere, which was fucking perfect), to make sure he didn't miss Xeno-Pol Sci, Jim laughed. Or tried. His own bitter mirth was cut short when his chest seized, his head thundered and he threw up once more, barely missing his own boots. Who would have thought James T. Fucking Kirk would ever be worried about something as boring ass as missing class?

It didn't stop him from checking anyway though, from feeling a little reassured that it was early enough that the campus would still be asleep by the time he could manage to get back to his dorm, clean up and move on.

Jim slouched on the bench. He stared dully at the Golden Gate Bridge hidden in the pre-dawn fog, his right arm still bracing his left. Jim rose shakily and steered for the lone tree that had provided some shade over the bench.

It'd been a while but he could probably get his arm back into the socket himself. Better to do it now. Let it hurt now than later. It hurt less now. That's what Jim had learned. Take the pain now because waiting in some corner, holding his breath, only meant the punches were that much sharper, the yelling that much louder—

With a sickeningly loud pop, a crunch of bone and tendon forced back to shape, Jim had let his thoughts distract him from what needed to be done. The completion of bone and muscle as it twisted back to what it should be was announced by an explosion of agony and heat that rippled down his arm, up his neck.

Jim threw up again by the foot of the tree.

Done, he sagged against the aging sapling, his warm forehead against cool, damp, peeling bark, his breath rattling in his chest. Jim's breathing hitched and he weakly punched the tree he was resting against.

He...he didn't want to go back.

Jim's face screwed up at the thought that wormed through.

"Idiot!" Jim howled and hearing it echoed back to him in the empty park seemed like confirmation. "Stupid, f-fuc..." Jim closed his eyes, his cheek on the tree and wondering where all this raw noise was coming from, why all of the sudden, he really wanted _not_ to be the Jim Kirk everyone thought he was. No, not everyone, not Bone—

....

Well, guess it _was_ everyone now, huh?

It was a laugh, a cough, a strangled noise that came tumbling out of his throat and suddenly, he couldn't stop, It just went on and on and god dammit, he needed to stop because he needed to breathe, get up, walk back into the Academy, get out in three years and lose himself in the stars. Three years. No, less at this point, to finish and finish better than everyone else and find a starship, get swallowed by the black like dear ole dad. It would be easy. No one would be looking. The only one would have been his brother Sam and he'd already vanished into the stars, unwilling to be found even when Jim so desperately wanted him to stay. Even if it meant Frank continued focusing only on Jim. Jim just wanted Sam to stay because he _wanted_ to stay with Jim, but no, Sam left and that was the last person who ever listened to Jim again.

Jim's lips curled back and he glared at his boots. He spat, waited until the world stopped tilting and straightened, as straight as the tight band around his chest would allow.

Enough of this pity shit.

Jim got on that shuttle that day knowing his journey would be a lonely one—No, not lonely, just...alone.

There was an ache in his chest that wouldn't go away when Jim gulped. All these months were...good, _Bones_ with all his weird old man tendencies and grouchy edges was good, it was all a pretty illusion, but it was...over.

Time to wake up.

Jim blinked rapidly at the tree. He grunted as he rested his good shoulder against it. He took a steadying breath and the blackness around the edges of his vision receded a bit. The gummy taste in his mouth didn't go away, nor did the bitterness in his throat. Maybe it'd never go away. Didn't matter. Not anymore.

"Full speed ahead, Kirk," Jim whispered. He stared down the deserted road and set his jaw.

Jim stumbled once, twice and his right arm wrapped around his middle to make the burning on his back go away. It didn't matter if he felt rocky, the ground unsteady, Jim kept his eyes forward and with a set mouth, forced himself to keep taking the next step.

* * *

It took too long to get back to the Academy but still early enough that Security merely gave Jim a sleepy grunt when Jim staggered past the gate, his id trembling as it glided through the reader.

Jim stopped several times when his vision blurred and there were times the pounding settled behind his eyes, pulsing so persistently it felt like it would push them out.

After three tries (he couldn't remember the keycode for some reason), Jim tumbled into his dorm, nearly falling over his roommate's bed.

Clarkson, probably only having just gotten to bed, swatted towards Jim's general direction, muttering something about bar fights and binary silicon wafers before burrowing further into the blankets.

Jim grimaced, swallowing convulsively as he aimed for his bed. His roommate was usually in the labs overnight and Jim hoped to get a shower, use the dermal regenerator he'd _borrowed_ and never returned and get some rest, calm the spinning in his head before class in a few hours.

It looked like the first two wasn't going to happen and the bed (he was getting spoiled) looked very inviting. Jim groaned as his ribs and shoulder sank into contact with his mattress. Even taking off his boots felt like too much right now. Jim just grabbed the covers and wrapped them over himself, his head and blew out a shaky breath inside the cocoon he made.

"Should have stayed the night at her place, Kirk," Clarkson muttered. The mattress creaked as Clarkson rolled over.

Jim grunted in response. He buried his face into his pillow and tried to ignore the sharp pulse thrumming in the back of his head. Sleep came in fragmented dreams and at one point he was jolted awake when Clarkson kicked his bed, griping that Jim missed his alarm. When Jim tried to answer, he couldn't. He felt thick-headed and stupid, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Clarkson gave up when it looked like Jim was ignoring him and left. Jim absently thought of calling after Clarkson but his eyelids drooped again and the darkness he was feeling the whole night finally stretched over him like a night sky.

As he faded, Jim realized it was a bit of relief. After that, Jim thought of nothing else.

His face hurt. No, wait...not anymore.

_He remembered the nurse who first asked about the fist-shaped bruises on his ribcage. He remembered the taste of blood in his mouth when he was sent back home. He remembered how his eyes were gritty as he watched his brother leave. He waved, got on top of an apple cart so Sam could see him. He kept waving._

_His brother never looked back._

Thunder pounded outside the darkness that was wrapped fuzzily around him.

"...in there? Jim! _Jim!_"

_She told him he looked too much like his father. He told her his hand was held over the stove._

_She slapped him. Then she went to space for three months. That was close to forever._

A few beeps took place of the thunder. The darkness around him shifted as the cocoon he vaguely felt on him lifted and peeled away.

"God..."

Hands pulled him up and patted his cheek. His head dropped but then was cradled by an arm. He was held against a body and, for once, Jim was too numb, too _not there_ to push that body away.

"Wake up! Open your eyes!"

A hand cupped under his throat. Jim waited for it to squeeze but it never came. Instead, he could feel his body moving, even though he gave no command, his legs bent, his arms tugged. Jim hissed, jerked and his left arm was carefully arranged across his stomach. He could smell medicine, soap and blood.

"Jim, wake up. Jim, I need you to...damn it, come on..."

A slap to his cheek tugged at his mind and another voice came, a hand harder than the one bracing the back of his head. Jim cringed. Fingers probed and found fire.

_Hurt..._

"Shi—Sorry. It's going to be okay. I just...p-please...I need you to open your eyes for me, Jim."

Jim mumbled, his head rolling against something warm, solid, heaving. A hand cradled his jaw. He could hear a tricorder hum over him.

"Damn it." A bleep. "This is Doctor McCoy. I need an emergency medical transport at..."

His head felt funny. Heavy. Barely balanced on his shoulders. He felt himself sagging, rolling...

"No, no. Not there. You must have thrown up before. Lucky you didn't asphyxiate on—Damn it, where the hell are they?"

Jim mumbled something, tried to get words out but he wasn't sure what came out.

"Frank? Who's Frank?"

_Nononononono..._

He felt hands framing his face as he thrashed, his name repeated over and over. There was a plea in the hoarse voice, a tremor on the surface he was slumped against. Jim stilled, his limbs still trembling though, his damp shirt glued to his body.

"What?" Jim groaned. He flinched as he cracked his eyes open and hissed when they burned.

The command cracked like a whip above him. "Computer, dim lights, fifty percent."

Jim squinted at the shadow above him. And suddenly, he wanted someone to listen, really, really listen.

"I...I didn't," Jim gasped and his right hand batted weakly at the shadow in front of him. Spinning, spinning, he couldn't see if the shadow had heard him.

There was the weight of a chin on top of his head, fleeting, maybe imagined before there was a heavy sigh.

"I know." Fingers carded carefully through his hair. "Just stay awake for me, Jim. Please."

"I never...with A-Adam..."

"Sh..." It felt like a breath of benediction ghosted over his temples, lips brushing skin. "It's okay. No more talking. Just stay awake. Stay with me."

Jim nodded, unsure why it felt like he was floating lighter and lighter. The answer he received, he couldn't connect yet he knew was important. They rang louder than the sirens outside, louder than his name being shouted in his ears as his eyes blurred and his breathing hitched and all Jim could think about was that someone had finally listened.

And maybe that was enough.

Hands shook him but it didn't matter anymore. He was just too tired. Too tir...

* * *

He roused briefly to the sensation of being carried. His legs swung briefly in mid-air before he was lowered to a flat, narrow surface. He tried to open his eyes (because someone kept asking him to) but objects and shadows oozed into misshapen spots that moved in front of him with a frenzy he thought he should understand. The splotches of color distracted him from the odd collection of noise, sensation and notion that something wasn't really right surrounding him.

His throat ached. His chest ached. His head—no, actually that didn't ache, not anymore and he was glad because...because...

Because of what?

He heard voices, gruff, unsteady, rapid and hot by his ear, the ground under his body rumbling and rolling. A voice by his ear told him things he didn't understand but they were still inexplicably comforting, anchoring him to here and now. His right hand twitched. Something captured it, something warm and callused skimmed across his brow and the aches all over his body retreated to a muffled throb that resided deep within his belly.

The colors that had danced in front of him with odd long fat limbs, gesturing and waving, almost accusatory that he would have flinched if his body obeyed him. They were man-shaped but faceless, surrounding him as well as the chirps and beeps of machinery. The colors danced serenely with the mechanical music, they writhed when the beeps began to _wail_ around him and voices began shouting.

He felt his body jerk.

Pain...

His head hurt again...

More shouting...

Why was everything hurting again? He half-expected to see a beer soaked fist raining down on him like judgment.

His body jerked again.

The fingers that were curled around his hand slipped away and left him mentally flailing. The colors came back, something hissed coolly against his neck and everything vanished.

....

....

It's dark.

No, wait. Come back...

There was something he wanted to say, something futile probably but he still wanted to say it, to say it wasn't him, he didn't do it, he didn't fall and break his fingers, he didn't mean to tell her never to come back, he didn't...

Listen to me, he pleaded alone in the dark.

But no one ever did. And those who do stayed until he was depleted, until they're bored, until his face looked too much like a dead man's and go away.

Go away.

No. Come back.

He tried to reach to capture what was escaping before him but his arm weighted like forever and dropped back to his side. He lay there, breathing hard, willing the layers of self fall away until everything grew lighter and lighter and then...

Jim Kirk opened his eyes.

* * *

The first thing that struck him was that this wasn't his dorm room in the quad. The second thing that struck him was he wasn't wearing the clothes he had on before. One plus one equals—Dammit.

Hospital.

Jim scowled, then was startled to realize how tight his face felt doing that. He tried moving his jaw and was disturbed to realize that his throat felt raw, as if something was jammed down it and wrenched out, bleeding acid in its wake. He touched his throat, felt nothing and frowned when he found it took too much to move that hand.

Fuck, what the hell happened?

Jim took inventory of his body: his ribs no longer burned, his left shoulder no longer felt like it was pushed in wrong, his head...

His hand shook again as he reached for the back and felt a cooling pad cushioning the back of his head. His skull felt tender to the touch and his neck felt stiff as if he had it in one position too long. But he could barely feel it and—_Shit!_

Someone fucking _shaved_ his head!

Jim's face screwed up. His fingers tingled but it felt like a patch the size of his thumbnail and just above the base of his skull and god damn it, the skin felt baby smooth and probably white and tanless. He was going to fucking kill Ada—

His mouth soured.

Jim's hand dropped. Memory slotted back in like playing cards and he could taste blood in his mouth, damp brick on his back. The look on Bones's face...He never looked away when Adam sauntered out of the alley and Jim didn't have to look to know there must have been accusation and disappointment in those eyes, eight months down the drain because Jim Kirk couldn't be trusted with...

A hoarse sound vibrated in his throat at the memory and reminded Jim just how thirsty he was. He lifted his head (it was like a weight was tied around his head) and scanned the tiny room. A privacy curtain was pulled halfway and he could see feet on the end of the bed parallel to him, snores softly huffing in the dimly lit room told him he had a roommate.

Despite the dim surroundings, Jim spotted the side table to his left with half a bowl of ice chips and a pitcher of water sitting just out of reach. Jim winced as he sat up. He had to wait for the spinning to stop. His spine felt like jelly and wouldn't straighten. When it finally felt like his head wouldn't roll off his shoulders, Jim twisted around, scowling as he pulled off the stupid wires attached to his bare chest. They were holding him back, tangling with his right arm and he leaned forward to reach past the border of his biobed.

Something wailed. No, _screamed_ above him.

Jim jerked at the ear-splitting shriek and felt himself leaning too far left, no rails, his left arm bound to his side and he found himself falling...falling...

Arms caught him around the shoulders and a hand cradled his forehead to prevent his head from snapping forward.

"What the hell are you doing out of bed?" Footsteps rushing into the room intruded. "No, no, it's okay. He took off his cardiac stimulant monitor. I got him. I got him."

Jim grimaced as he was eased back into the bed, one warm hand still around his forehead, the other supporting his left shoulder.

And still talking.

"...halfway to Risa by now if that monitor didn't go off and don't you remember enough of that first aid shit I taught you to know not to sleep with a head injury? Your roommate needs a refresher. Damn fool and his 'I thought he just overslept' excuse can go to Dante and back. I looked _everywhere_ for you. I'd half a mind to shake some sense into you if I didn't think it'd just rattle your brain loose and waste six hours of the cranial vascular work they did to make sure your brain didn't forget how to make your organs function right..."

Jim groaned as his head laid on the cooling pad and the tirade stopped abruptly. The hand on his shoulder slipped off and brushed away hair to settle on his brow. Jim blinked blearily under the hand that felt large yet unthreatening. A face eased into view and Jim squinted up at him, feeling a little numb and a little colder as a name surfaced.

"Bones?"

It was déjà vu to see a bristly jawed Bones in a ratty sweater staring back at him, his eyes dark as coals, his mouth grim as if he was trying not to throw up.

Jim stared up at Bones. Bones stared down at him.

"They shaved my head," was all Jim could manage.

That grim mouth crumpled, flattened, then twisted to a wry smirk that didn't reach his eyes.

"It was barely two centimeters in diameter. Don't be such a baby." Nevertheless, Bones reached behind Jim and his thumb smoothed over the bare patch with slow strokes. Jim's stomach made funny leaps.

"Water?" Jim rasped. He felt oddly disappointed when Bones pulled his hand away but relief replaced that funny feeling when a glass with a straw materialized.

"Ah, ah, ah," Bones chided as Jim craned his neck to reach the glass. "That's what the straw's for, so—will you be still?" Bones growled and finally, helped Jim sit up. He shuffled until he was half sitting on the bed, his shoulder against Jim's chest so he wouldn't tip over.

"Slowly," Bones cautioned.

Jim jerked when he felt a hand snake up to support his chin but as Bones murmured "Easy. Easy," he relaxed, letting his upper torso sag further against Bones. Dutifully, Jim nibbled on the offered straw, drank until his throat no longer felt like it was scoured by shards of glass.

"Respirator," Bones explained when Jim cleared his throat with a mild scowl. "They took it out two days ago."

Jim's brow furrowed as he sank back into the bed. "How long?" he wheezed.

Bones darkened and his eyes were hooded, concealed from Jim's view.

"Too long." Bones rubbed his jaw with both hands. He breathed out sharply. "Four days."

"Fuck."

Bones agreed with a curt nod. "Yeah." He studied Jim, his mouth set.

"Jim—"

"I didn't do it." Jim didn't know why he bothered. Why it mattered. "Adam and I, shit, there _was_ no Adam and I. Bones—"

"It's all right," Bones interrupted.

Jim's gut twisted. He didn't want forgiveness. "But...b-but I didn't..." He hated the reed thin protest that trickled out before he could stop himself.

The expression on Bones's face went from slitted eyes and set mouth to slack jawed and agape.

"What? No, no. Jim, _no_, I'm saying it's okay." Bones smiled tightly as he settled a hand on top of Jim's head.

"I believe you."

Jim stared. He stared at the smile that was more frown than joy, the dark smudges under brown eyes and found he didn't understand.

"You...you believe me..." Jim tested the words in his mouth and they tasted funny. He looked up at Bones, perplexed.

"Why?"

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** Standby

**Author:** d8rkmessngr

**Pairing: **Kirk/McCoy

**Warnings:** implied past abuse, attempted non-con, strong language

**Author's Notes:** Wow, thank you all for the response to this story! I'm relieved to hear in particularly that the characterizations feel close. I adore my two boys here and I am so glad you guys are letting me play here!

* * *

It was comical the way Bones's mouth dropped open.

"W-what?"

Jim turned his head, stared at the side table instead, suddenly feeling incredibly stupid for even asking. He didn't really want to hear why. He didn't want to find out how fleeting it was going to be. Jim hated the walls around him and suddenly it felt like the walls were too close, _Bones_ was too close. Jim tracked the ice floating in the pitcher. One ice cube dissolved in front of him inside the clear pitcher and left no trace of itself. He couldn't help thinking it was a lucky bastard.

"So can I go now?" he rasps.

"Can yo—I think those surgeons missed a vessel because you're not thinking straight. Go? Jim, you were in a _coma_ until just this morning! I—we weren't sure if your _eyeballs_ weren't going to point in different directions! Go? _Go?_ I—"

"All right, I get it," Jim snapped, turning back to Bones. That was a mistake because something on his monitors above his head squawked and something in his chest pulled. "So not today then. Tomorrow?"

"_Tomorrow?_" Bones bellowed. "How about fucking _never_? Jim, they told me to call your emergency contact just...just in case and you know what I got? Some damn holo-strip club called Stockies in Riverside, Iowa!"

Jim smirked weakly. "Be glad it wasn't the Interspecies Sex line." He had flipped a coin. It lost. "You would have been charged a lot but at least it would have been interesting conversation."

Bones looked at Jim like Jim had sprouted three heads. Nothing new, Bones seemed to react to the weirdest things Jim said, got mad for some stupid thing Jim repeated hearing tossed his way.

Jim yawned. He grimaced. How could he be this tired already if he slept for four days? He shrugged his right shoulder. His left was immobilized which annoyed the hell out of him. He needed to demonstrate a throw to the class next week. This was going to complicate things.

"So what's the damage?" Jim slurred.

"My sanity," Bones muttered. He ran a hand through his hair. Jim smirked as Bones's dark hair stuck out in all directions. He hadn't looked this wild-eyed since that Vega frat mixer Jim dragged him to. Jim wondered if Bones kept that green bra he found stuffed in his pocket when they came to drooling on Jim's dorm floor.

Bones rubbed a hand over his rough chin. His shoulders rose, then dropped.

"You had some cranial bleeding into the back of your head, hairline fractures of your third, fourth and sixth rib." Bones looked at Jim, his face unreadable.

"You stopped breathing on your own, you know."

Jim touched his throat. "Yeah?" He eyed Bones by the foot of his bed. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to that. And Bones was looking a bit freaked, like sitting-in-a-shuttle freaked.

"You look like shit." It was the safest thing to say.

Bones stopped looking like he needed to be sedated before take off and his face crunched up into a scowl again. He muttered something about having no razor here and it was back to looking at Jim like he was some new alien bug.

Jim narrowed his eyes. "What?" His head ached, his eyes felt gritty and he was starting to feel pissed off again because he didn't know what Bones was going to do next and that was like flying a shuttle blind.

"Why didn't you tell me about Adam?"

Despite the disgruntled look on his face, Bones's voice was soft. His eyes crinkled and fuck, he looked mopey.

Jim closed his eyes. His head was pounding again. He wished Bones would just go away. Bones wasn't reacting the way people normally would. Bones wasn't following the script like everyone else.

"Jim?" Bones dropped a hand on his left knee. A tricorder quietly hummed.

"Can we talk about this later?" Jim muttered. He needed time, space to think.

"I rather we talked about it now." Bones patted Jim's knee and readjusted the blankets. Jim could hear the tricorder warble. "Otherwise, knowing you, we'll never talk about it."

"There's nothing to talk about. You have bad taste in men, there was nothing going on, my head got shaved."

"It was a little spot, Jim."

"Well, it was my favorite part of the head," Jim grumbled.

"Where the hell did you go?" Bones exhaled shakily. "You just took off. Found your communicator a block away, you didn't go straight back to your dorm. If it weren't for your idiot roommate complaining you slept through the alarm, I would have never..." Bones squeezed Jim's knee and audibly swallowed. "Shit, Jim, if I got there ten, no, _five_ minutes later..."

Jim shifted on the bed. He coughed and immediately, he felt the thin rim of a straw against his lips. Bones cupped the back of his neck and guided his head higher so that Jim could drink.

"You should have told me about him in the beginning," Bones chided when Jim was done. Bones sounded more weary than annoyed. "He nearly..."

"He didn't," Jim muttered. He opened his eyes and squinted blearily at Bones. "I wouldn't have let it get that far." He'd learned long ago it hurt more, doing nothing. Better to fight back, damn the consequences. Jim studied Bones. He squirmed under Bones' speculative look. "Speaking of which..."

"Don't worry about him." Bones absently shook his hands and Jim caught a glimpse of scabbed knuckles.

"Oh." Jim grunted. He closed his eyes and grimaced.

Now the damn tricorder buzzed over his face. "Head hurts?"

"Kinda," Jim reluctantly admitted. It felt like a vise clamped over the back of his skull. He felt the cool nozzle of a hypospray hiss under his jaw.

"It should work in a few minutes," Bones promised.

"Mm," Jim just said, his eyes still closed but he could see in his mind Bones still there, a hand on his knee and thought about Bones's unkempt look, about how Bones tried his emergency contact and unbidden, Jim sighed.

"Jim?"

"...didn't think you'd 'elieve me." Damn, whatever Bones gave him was fast. That floating, zero gravity feeling was settling in his limbs again.

"Why wouldn't I believe you?" Bones sounded sincerely baffled.

Because they never believed me, Jim thought, his throat working.

A hand rested on top of his head.

"Who's they?"

Dammit, he must have said it out loud. Jim clamped his mouth shut.

"Who's they?" Bones repeated. "Jim?" He sighed. "All right. Fine. Can you at least tell me why you didn't think _I_ would believe you?"

Jim shrugged his right shoulder once more.

"That's not an answer."

Jim's mouth twisted. "That's all I got." He set his jaw, damming the weird churning mix of...he didn't know what it was...from bursting free.

"I just...People don't usually listen to what guys like us have to say."

"Guys like you?"

Jim grunted. "I don't get you..." Jim muttered.

Bones smoothed a hand across the blanket over his legs. "No, I guess you really don't, kid." Bones exhaled slowly. "You're just gonna have to trust that I'll listen." Bones paused.

"Unless it's one of your insane, wild stories again, then I don't wanna hear it." Bones patted the covers.

"But at least at what matters, you gotta trust I'll listen."

Why, Jim wanted to ask. Why bother, what was in it for him? But they were questions Jim would never ask because he knew he would probably hate the answers. He felt Bones pulling up the covers higher to his shoulders and his throat worked again. Jim stilled and waited for the fading footsteps.

Carefully, a hand hovered near his face, the heat like a breath against his skin. Jim tensed. A thumb began to rub tiny circles over his left temple, round and round and smoothing the throbbing away. Jim relaxed and lay there, counting the circles, one, two, three...

"'ones?" Jim slurred.

The thumb never paused. "Yeah, kid?"

Jim tried to smirk but he wasn't sure if he succeeded.

"You really do look like crap."

There was a scoff close to his ear. "You're not exactly looking pretty right now...baldie."

"'ucker." Jim yawned again. "I'm always pretty. It's..." The next yawn made his jaw ached. "It's what works...People s-stay for that..."

The thumb stilled. "People don't just stay for that, Jim."

Jim made a sleepy snort. "People stay for what they want," Jim told him sleepily. "It's always so'ething they...they want." Jim's mouth set. "Then they'll leave." You would think Bones know that by know, having once been a married guy and all.

Bones sighed. "Jim...Get some rest. I'll be right here."

"Yeah, all right," Jim murmured. His chest tightened despite the creeping lethargy. We'll see, he thought as he drifted away, lulled by the massaging touch by his brow.

* * *

To Jim's annoyance, medical wouldn't release him for three more days (Jim suspected Bones had something to do with that). Not that Jim could have sneaked out anyway. Most of the time, it felt like his head was two times too big or his limbs were welded to the bed. Damn nurses kept sedating him if his fucking heart rate shot up. And when he was allowed to stay awake, vertigo made it impossible to sit up or even read all the shit he knew he was missing in class. Not that he was too worried about that, but reading about sub-particle emissions against Red Trentonia 12 was better than some boring ass white ceiling.

Plus, _Bones_ was always there.

Somehow, Bones managed to make sure the other bed stayed unoccupied, free for Bones to crash. Jim would wake up to the sight of Bones sitting on the nearby biobed with his legs stretched out, still looking scruffy like the day they met on that shuttle. Bones usually grunted out a greeting, eat the pudding off his tray (because this was the only guy Jim knew who liked butterscotch pudding and medical never seemed to give him anything else), read a PADD for class (sometimes out loud if they both had the same class), review his patients' files or (and this was the weird thing) _watch_ Jim, as if Jim was a test question in his finals, one he was still trying to figure out the answer or trying to figure out what he wanted to ask.

Jim usually pretended to fall back asleep at that one.

Thankfully, Bones never called him on that, just often kept on reading out loud from their Vulcan Logistical Philosophy class until that boring shit put him to sleep for real.

It was on the third day to his best estimate when Jim found himself floating back towards real consciousness. Damn Bones had the nurses sedate him last night. He had one lousy nightmare...Jim couldn't even remember any of it. All he did remember was suddenly being on the floor, Fra—_his_ name stuck in his throat, his chest aching. Bones was all white and looking mildly freaked for some reason, straddled over him and gripping his arms while telling (shouting) at him to keep breathing. Then the hypospray came...

Fucking Adam. This was all his fault. Jim was fine with everyone, everything as it were. He never cared before. He was just here for three years and off to space and the things in-between was just to make the three years go by quicker. What anyone thought was bullshit and he didn't care that no one believes him. It didn't...

Jim cracked open his gritty eyes and stared at the ceiling until it cleared from fuzzy white to just fricking flat white. He blinked hard and automatically turned to his right. Jim blinked.

The bed was empty.

Jim stared at the made biobed for a beat before he averted his gaze. His throat tightened. He wasn't sure if it bothered him that Bones wasn't there or the fact that Jim _expected_ Bones to be there.

When Jim realized it was the latter, his face flushed. Stupid, needy bastard, Jim thought. He clamped his mouth shut, his eyes narrowed to slits. Of course Bones wouldn't be here. The world didn't stop just because Jim did. It never did. Idiot.

Jim forced himself not to look at the empty bed again as he pushed up on his right elbow. It still hurt to put weight on his left and the doctor who was here (Bones barely gave the guy a chance to talk though) mentioned something about physical therapy. Jim wasn't listening at the time. He was getting distracted by Bones's constant interruptions of "Did you remember to do..." and "Are you sure this medication you gave him doesn't contain..."

Jim scowled. If Bones was that bored, Jim thought as he picked a loose thread on the blanket tucked around his legs, Bones should have just left.

The room spun as he sat there, gulping for air. He listened but no one was running in, no alarms. Jim grunted. No reason to stay then. Jim kept his eyes forward, refusing to look to his right. No point. He was on his own, no one to stop him from leaving.

Getting off the biobed (why did they have to build them so high anyway?) took a few tries. Jim clutched the edge until he could lock his knees and even then, he needed to rest his head on the bed for a moment.

His jacket, the worn t-shirt he last had on, and his jeans hung inside the closet. It was clear that they had been cleaned up but there was still a faint tinge of blood that wafted as Jim struggled to put them on.

It was tempting to scrawl a note and leave it on his bed: maybe an IOU or "Thanks for the fish", but Jim doubted it would be appreciated. So Jim opted for the next best thing...

He crept out the service entrance.

* * *

Jim stood swaying at the back end of the medical building. The sun was warm on his face, but disorienting as it reminded him just how long he was stuck indoors. He rubbed at the back of his head, scowling as he felt the smooth, _too_ smooth spot at the back of his skull. Great.

"Damn it," Jim grumbled as he felt the area. Stupid brain surgery.

"For God's sake, it'll grow back in a week, you narcissistic brat."

Out of nowhere, a cap was shoved over his head, over the spot, the brim pulled over his eyes. Jim staggered, spun around and frowned.

"What are you doing here?" Jim demanded. He lowered the fists that came up.

Bones leaned against the statue of whoever Starfleet Medical thought was important, his arms folded in front of him. He was back in uniform, clean-shaven again, and smirking.

"Waiting for you," Bones drawled. He nodded towards the exit Jim came out of. "Figured you wouldn't stagger out the front." He scowled.

"The doctors said a week and while I think he's a senile twenty-second century quack, I do agree with him on this."

Jim shrugged. "I feel fine."

"You don't _look_ fine." Bones waved towards the cap he crammed over Jim's head.

Jim scowled and readjusted the cap over his head, covering his bald spot. Jim made a face at Bones. "Ouch." He opened his arms. "I think a good portion of the campus would disagree with you." He smirked but at Bones's far too serious face, Jim sobered. He just shrugged again.

"Anyway," Jim muttered. "I feel better, okay? I could rest in my dorm room." He studied Bones.

"What?"

Jim shrugged as he turned back around to head down the east path towards his quad.

"Figured you had class," Jim said casually. His chest, however, felt oddly lighter as he sensed Bones walking behind him.

Bones scoffed. "Not yet. But with the suspension hearing done this morning, I should be allowed back into—"

Jim skidded to a halt. He whipped around; a mistake because Bones's right arm shot out to grab his shoulder when he tottered.

"Will you watch it? Your equili—"

"What hearing?" Jim demanded around the lump lodged in his throat, the churning nausea slowly settling under Bones's grip. "What suspension?"

"Will you calm down?" Bones was in his face now. "Dammit, Jim. You're still—"

"_What_. _Suspension?_" Jim ground out.

Bones sighed. He rolled his eyes. "For fighting, okay? For hitting...you know..." Bones scratched his jaw with a thumb and took a step back.

Jim stared. "For fighting? _You_? I usually have to get you piss drunk before you would even miss class by ten minutes."

Bones scowled. "Don't remind me." He shrugged and dropped an arm around Jim's shoulders, steering him the other way.

"Wait, wait, wait. You were really _suspended_?" Jim's head spun. "For hitting Ad—" Jim halted and Bones had no choice but to stop as well. Jim tilted his head up, his eyes narrowing at Bones.

"You...you hit Adam," Jim said flatly. He tensed. "Why? Because...because you thought we were..."

Bones exhaled sharply. "Because he said you were coming on to...dammit, Jim, I hit him because..." Bones dropped his arm from Jim's shoulders.

"So," Jim digested, "you didn't believe him?"

"Look, you can be a pain in the ass, a loud mouth, the most conceited, crazy son of a bitch I ever met, but..." Bones opened his hands in the air, his smile crooked.

"You're just not the kind who would do such things to a friend. You're pretty damn loyal."

Jim stared, unable to think of anything to say. He swallowed and looked away.

"You make me sound like some sort of dog," Jim muttered as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Trust me, if I thought neutering would solve anything..."

Jim snorted. He peered at Bones out from under the brim.

"So...you didn't believe Adam?" Jim said carefully and waited. "You believed...me? But the way we came out—"

Bones grunted and met Jim's eyes. "Jim, I believed you because I trust _you_."

Jim swallowed and looked down at his shoes. "Oh." He shrugged, not sure why despite the pounding headache he has, he felt like grinning. "All right. Sure."

"Sooner or later," Bones muttered, barely audible off his ear. "You're gonna have to trust _me_ that I would always trust you."

"Huh?" Jim looked up, unsure he heard properly.

Bones chuckled wryly to himself. "Never mind. Come on, let's go." He draped his arm around Jim's shoulders again.

"My dorm is that way," Jim pointed out, not moving.

"Not anymore," Bones quipped. "_I'm_ your new roommate."

"Hold it. What the hell?" Jim glowered at Bones. He now realized there was a duffel, _his_ duffel, slung over Bones's left shoulder. "Is that my stuff?"

"You've been here eight months. You didn't have a lot," Bones muttered. "And you're not about to go back to that idiotic roommate of yours who wouldn't know a head trauma if it fired on his ass."

Jim rolled his eyes. Damn. _Big_ mistake. He staggered but Bones suddenly dropped his arm to around his middle before he could sway and fall on his butt.

"Look," Jim started, "I know you're feeling guilty—"

"Guilty?" Bones snorted. "Your own damn fault for not letting me know sooner, you dumb ass."

"Dumb ass?" Jim elbowed Bones in the ribs. "I just got brain surgery and my head shaved!"

"You have a spot the size of a blueberry taken off, you baby and yeah, it was your fault. You should have trusted _me_."

Jim stiffened. "I do."

Bones sighed even as he herded Jim towards his quad. "No, you don't," he murmured, sounding a little sad, a little weary for some reason. "Otherwise you would have told me sooner."

"Didn't see a point," Jim mumbled. He didn't know why Bones was making such a big deal about it.

"There. You see?" Bones tugged the cap over Jim's eyes. Asshole. "Come on, you're stuck with me. Someone competent gotta be sure you don't start spouting gibberish after too many knocks on the head."

Jim shook his head and shrugged away from Bones. "Bones..."

"I'm not going anywhere." Bones stopped in his tracks and was suddenly serious. Too serious. Jim squirmed. "You'll just have to deal with the fact I'm sticking around." Bones snorted. "Don't know why. Maybe _I_ hit my head," Bones muttered under his breath.

Jim didn't know why either but the prospect didn't sound so bad actually. And Bones might make a decent roommate for the remaining two years. It might not be so bad if Bones really did stick around like he claimed he would. The idea sounded as unknown as going into deep space and unbidden, a wry smile curved. Jim raised then dropped his shoulders.

"Fine. But you better not snore."

"I think you're getting that mixed up, kiddo." Bones nudged Jim with his shoulder. "_You_ snore. Like a fat Rigellian horned hog."

"Bastard."

Bones gave him a head slap Jim barely felt.

"Baldie."

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** Standby

**Author:** d8rkmessngr

**Pairing:** Kirk/McCoy

**Warnings:** implied past abuse, attempted non-con, strong language

* * *

_Two Kobayashi Marus, one suspension, one mud flea vaccine, one mind meld and one fucking insane psycho time traveler from the future Romulan later..._

_

* * *

  
_

Apparently, Jim thought groggily, his fucking reputation had reached far into space, even to lousy, unexplored Partos II. He was slammed over the stone table of the stone chamber (a lot of stone) in a hole out of a mountain of other holes.

Great.

Two months of diplomatic bullshit events and hand-holding missions of mercy and they finally found a planet to discover. Only it had already been discovered. By a team of scientists three years ago, there to study the oblivious inhabitants.

They found the scientists in a shallow ditch. Most of them anyway. Parts of them.

The natives were apparently _not_ so oblivious.

Jim shoved an elbow back and the humanoid, who had a face like a hairless flesh-colored giant praying mantas, squawked. It chattered angrily before it pressed its whole length over him again. The sharp angles of its knees dug into the back of his thighs, which wouldn't be a problem if half of his trousers weren't already shredded off and barely hanging off his hips.

Alien or not, it felt clear from the frantic rutting against his ass what it wanted. Seemed like even aliens wanted a piece of him.

Whatever it clicked and chirped over his right ear was either foreplay or something lewd. Its four-fingered grip dug into his sides with sharp heat. It trembled and—ah hell—something warm dampened what remained of his pants.

"Not on the first date!" Jim snarled and threw his head back, catching it by its pointy chin and damn it, it had a hard head. His vision blurred but he pushed forwards, whipping a roundhouse kick towards its chest area. The giant walking bug-face staggered back.

"Not even the greatest first date," Jim panted as he swung a double fist right into where the solar plexus should be. For a human, that is. His clasped hands bounced off its body armor. Shit.

"I wasn't impressed," Jim gritted out as he kicked behind a knee and it shrieked, "with the grabbing me from my away team, killing some of my men and carrying me like a sack of potatoes for a day and a half to this shitty hole!" He grabbed it by the head, grimaced at the odd sensation of paper thin skin and drove his knee up over its chin.

One thing Jim learned from that bastard Fra—was to keep moving, become a harder target.

Jim dodged one pincer-like arm whizzing towards him, grunted when the other arm rammed into his back. Jim swung, connected and—gross—it felt like shattered eggshells where his fist connected on its face.

The creature screamed. It sounded like metal scraping against metal. Its too long arms flailed wildly towards its face, white blood-like substance dribbling down its body armor. Its large arms lashed out before Jim could duck and something went _crack_ in Jim's chest and something hot erupted in his throat when something very solid rammed up under his chin.

Jim lurched, choked and was thrown back over the stone table again with a hard enough blow that wrenched the air out of his body. He couldn't breathe; his vision was going dark. Jim growled as his cheek scraped against the rough surface and suddenly it was a brick wall again in some crummy alley, "manwhore" hissed into his ear and a strangled sense of resignation came over him as he felt his arms yanked back behind him, a body too alien yet nauseatingly familiar settled across his back.

Get through this, Jim thought fuzzily as the sensation of being crushed started to overwhelm. He hissed as he felt it grinding against him once more, the hem of its body armor digging into and bruising the small of his back. Sharp elbows pinned his arms to his sides. The alien's high-pitched clicks made his ears burn as it rose in some sort of triumph. Outside, others echoed.

Jim clenched his teeth and breathed sharply through his nose.

_Get through this. It's just sex. It's not even sex. It's probably some weird, screwed up alien ritual—_

"Ji—_Get the fuck off him!_"

The weight that was suffocating him before was gone suddenly after the whine of a phaser. Jim turned around, his head spinning and he blinked at the sight of a worse-for-wear Bones stomping repeatedly over the supine alien. It twitched under each boot stomp. Bones's face was contorted, flushed, oddly feral under the dirt smudges and scratches all over his face.

Watching Bones was both a relief and disturbing when Jim realized Bones looked determined to drive the alien completely into the ground.

"'ones," Jim croaked, his jaw stiff, his tongue thick and useless, his limbs heavy. Bones stopped.

Bones took a deep breath and staggered back a step. That _not-Bones_ look lifted and he looked disoriented as he stared at the alien on the ground. He swallowed hard. He finally looked up at Jim. Something eased away from his face and Bones exhaled shakily. He steered right for him with a limp.

"Are you okay?" Bones demanded hoarsely before Jim could ask about his leg. His fists curled tightly on Jim's biceps. Hazel flecked with green scanned Jim up and down before they narrowed.

"No, you're not okay," Bones decided in that god damn _I'm the doctor_ way of his before Jim could even claim otherwise or ask about the phaser whines he could hear outside the stone—whatever this shit place was. Bones was still holding onto one of Jim's arms as he grabbed his communicator.

"Enterprise, McCoy here. I got him. Two to beam up, emergency transport."

Jim blinked blearily as he swayed against Bones. The communicator squawked. Scotty sounded almost shrill as his brogue came through in rapid-fire succession. Jim sagged against Bones, eyes half-mast and everything blurry around him. Bones's arm snaked around to wrap around his shoulders instead, squashing Jim's face to Bones's shoulder and Jim wanted to tell Bones to knock it off, he wasn't made of glass, damn it, he was the fucking captain of the _Enterprise_. But then Jim's dazed eyes drifted to the ground and widened.

"Shit, did you shoot it in the crotc—"

The white sparkles swirled around him and stole whatever he was going to say.

* * *

There was a smack across his cheek that flared all across his face.

Before he could step back, protest, swing back, _anything_, there was another blow.

And another.

And another.

_Stopstopstopstop_...

He raised his hands in pathetic defense. Cried out as a phantom blow came from behind and it struck him; his voice sounded higher, cracked...

Scared.

He looked up, fury boiling in his chest about his fear, about the fists he couldn't defend against, about the jeers and names tossed his way. He looked past the violent rain of blows and saw Frank's face distort into a chimera of his, Nero and Adam.

Jim woke up.

It took a few gulps, a few blinks, before the _Enterprise's_ soft lighting of gamma shift filtered into memory and the cushioned surface of a biobed registered. It took a few more breaths before Jim relaxed.

He laid there, feeling oddly displaced and wondered for a brief moment if becoming captain was just one screwed up dream.

Someone mumbled.

Tensing, Jim raised his head and stared at Bones slouched in a chair, legs sprawled out, head resting on the adjacent empty biobed, his mouth partially opened. The privacy curtain was drawn around both beds and Bones must have taken advantage of the gamma shift to sleep.

But he wasn't snoring.

Even from here, Jim could hear snatches of "...fucking kill him..." and "...bastard...hands off..." and "...leave him alone..." muttered. Bones's brow furrowed, his mouth twitched and he fidgeted in his narrow chair, head lolling against the side of the other biobed.

"Bones," Jim whispered. With a groan, he pushed up on his elbows. His chest felt tight, his throat tighter. Bones never stirred.

Jim eased himself off the biobed. He stumbled, leaning heavily on the platform, towards Bones.

Closer, Jim grimaced at the scabbing cuts on Bones's face, one that ran an angry red jagged line from the corner of his right eye down into the coarse dark stubble Bones seemed to be cursed with if he didn't shave every day.

Jim scanned his friend quickly, noting the bandaged right thigh, the splinted ring finger and felt an odd sort of déjà vu swept over him at the thought Bones must have gotten them while tracking him down.

"Bones," Jim murmured and he couldn't help himself: he lightly touched Bones's hair. Jim snatched his hand back. What the?

Bones grumbled something unintelligibly, something about Adam and he scowled in his sleep.

Jim frowned. Adam?

Whatever it was, Bones wasn't happy and the squirming he was doing before grew to something more agitated, something that was bound to hurt as Bones growled under his breath.

Not good. Jim reached over and shook his shoulder. "Bones. Wake up. Wak—"

Eyes flew open on contact and Bones's wild-eyed stare zipped towards Jim's face with a stark emotion Jim didn't understand, was afraid to recognize. Bones's gaze pinned Jim to the spot. Before Jim could assure Bones he was okay, they both were, Bones grabbed him by the shoulders, yanked him closer and smashed his mouth over the yelp Jim was about to make.

....

....

Holy _fuck_.

Greedy hands carded through his hair as they guided his head down and Jim was awkwardly stooped over Bones, settled between his legs. Jim's hands on Bones's shoulders curled—to push away, to pull closer, hell if he knew.

Warm, tasting strongly of coffee as if Bones had drowned in the stuff, Jim felt the rough texture of Bones's stubble rubbing against his jaw, a callus from Bones's left thumb making tiny circles on the back of his neck.

Jim thought _Screw it_ and leaned into the solid build that oddly felt familiar as if his own body knew this sensation all his life, waited for it and god damn it was like being welcomed home when Bones's kiss deepened and began nipping his lower lip like he was some kind of treat.

Kissing a man was nothing new. Kissing _Bones_ though was entirely different. It was a hot, twisty feeling of _shitIcandothisforevernoone'sherefuckmenow_ that curled in Jim's belly because this was Bones, the one guy who nagged, berated, griped, pissed him off, yet always around. This was Bones, who snuck him into the _Enterprise_, the one who nearly drank himself to death when he found out Delta Vega was not as safe as Spock had thought, the one who held his head up as he puked after getting Frank's call, didn't judge when he found Jim curled on the bathroom floor desperately trying to forget. This was...this was...

Fucking perfect.

Somewhere in-between getting devoured and doing the devouring, Jim moaned into a kiss that he still wasn't certain was real. And that was a mistake.

Like an alarm, Bones jerked, his body tensing so suddenly, Jim thought for one moment that Bones was having a heart attack. Bones reared back, his arms windmilling until he realized there was no place to go past the chair he was poured into.

Bones stared, his mouth partially opened, chest heaving. Then the mouth snapped shut.

"W-what the hell are you doing out of bed?" Bones demanded, his voice hoarse.

Jim frowned at him. He doubted "the better to kiss you" would be the appropriate response right now but he was sorely tempted to see Bones's reaction.

Bones staggered up to his feet, tottered until he regained his balance, favoring his good leg. He snagged Jim's right elbow.

"Come on, you should be in be—"

Fuck it. "Why were you dreaming about Adam?" Jim asked abruptly.

Bones jerked like he was struck and nearly collided into Jim. "The _hell_ I was dreaming about that bastard."

Ah ha. Very interesting. Jim stared, a little idea forming, bits and pieces falling into slots and tabs and Adam's smirking face floated unwanted in his mind. Jim's eyes widened.

"Son of a bitch," Jim breathed. "Adam was _me_, wasn't he?"

If it weren't for the fact that Jim could feel Bones's hard on against his thigh, the bulging, the _shit I'm going to faint_ look on Bones's face would have been funny.

Besides, hard to laugh when he himself was sort of realizing that, fuck, he _liked_ kissing Bones!

"W-what?" Bones managed out before his eyes flicked downwards. He must have either realized Jim was really close or that his dick was saluting him. Probably both because Jim watched his ears turn beet red (he hadn't seen that color since Cardassian Fire shots second year) and Bones scrambled back, dropping his grip on Jim's elbow.

Still thinking, hard not to, Jim gave Bones his space by leaning back on the opposite biobed.

"Well, think about it," Jim began.

"Do I have to?" Bones muttered under his breath.

Ignoring Bones, Jim held up his hand to count.

"Okay, he looks like me. Kinda. His nose was funny looking and my ass is way better than his." Jim craned to look behind him. Bones made some sort of weird choking sound. Oh yeah. Definitely better. Jim turned back and suddenly, he found he couldn't meet Bones's eyes. He shrugged one shoulder.

"I'm kinda...well...like him. We were both...you know," Jim added but trailed off at Bones's stormy expression.

"You," Bones growled, "are _nothing_ like that asshole."

Jim quirked a faint smile. Good ole Bones. "Face it, you and I both know that I was a fuck up then, a bit of a manwh—" Jim yelped when Bones grabbed him by the upper arms and shook him like some damn martini shaker.

"Will you stop saying that shit?" Bones demanded. "Haven't three years with me tattooed that into your idiotic brain yet?"

Jim stared at Bones. Even now, to this day, he wasn't too sure why Bones took such personal offense to it. It wasn't like they were talking about _him_.

"You know," Jim said mildly, "according to Starfleet regulations, this could be seen as assaulting a commanding officer."

Bones shot him a look of disbelief that Jim could understand, because yeah, Jim couldn't believe he was referring to Starfleet regulations either.

With a snort, Bones glowered at him.

"I think of it as beating some sense into a friend." Bones gave his arms a careful squeeze. "Not everybody buys into that business, okay? I never did. You know that."

And it was true even when Jim went out of his way sometimes to act like it, because it was easier at times than trying to prove that he wasn't. Bones, somehow, saw past it with his usual exasperation and patience that scared—if Jim could admit it to himself—him. Jim took a deep breath.

"Okay. Fine," Jim relented, subdued, "But Adam..." Jim caught the flinch, felt oddly unanchored when Bones lowered his arms from his. "He wasn't just a coincidence, was he?"

Bones studied Jim for a long moment before he dropped his chin. His shoulders slumped.

"No," Bones exhaled. He slumped back as he absently rubbed a spot above his dressing. "No, he wasn't." Bones shrugged. "In my defense though, I didn't realize at the time that I was...substituting you with Adam."

"Oh." Jim found himself with the rare occurrence of being at a loss for words. Jim stared at the floor, at his bare feet.

"So after that, why didn't you just go out with m—" Jim stopped, the last word stuck in his throat. What the hell?

Despite the fact Jim never finished, Bones acted like he did. His eyes widened and he tossed an uneasy glance over his shoulder to check that the privacy curtain was still surrounding them: their own little world.

"You..." Bones rubbed the back of his neck and he glanced down. He swallowed and Jim stared at his throat as it worked. Now Jim averted his gaze, his mouth dry. Okay, that was weird. It wasn't like he'd never checked out or thought about a guy before, but this wasn't a guy, shit, it was _Bones_.

"It's not like you ever showed any interest. Besides...Remember what you said?" Bones lowered his voice. "After Adam? After you woke up?" Whatever memory Bones held made his upper lip curl.

Baffled, Jim numbly shook his head.

Bones's mouth crinkled upwards but his eyes looked dull, tired, a little resigned. "You said all your life, people stayed because they want something then...they leave." Bones made a self-deprecating laugh.

"I was _trying_ not to be one of those, Jim."

Kid, Jim thought in a fuzzy haze. Bones used to call him kid. Of course he wasn't a kid anymore and often, Jim never thought he ever was. He was captain now and even his name, Jim, was laced with everything that had happened since Nero. They couldn't go back to when things were a hell of a lot easier and looking at Bones avoiding his eyes didn't hurt so damn much.

"Oh," Jim mumbled, because he couldn't think of what he wanted to say, afraid of what he might _want_.

"I was trying to be a friend," Bones sighed and Jim inwardly cringed at how resigned Bones sounded. "Figured I could at least be that."

"You were," Jim said because suddenly, like long before, he really really needed to say it to Bones. "You still are."

Bones flashed him a brief smile.

Jim frowned to himself as something wiggled in memory. "So all that time I was flirting around, pushing and being an ass and..." Jim peered up at Bones. "You stuck around anyway..." Jim grimaced.

"Man, it sucked being you."

The laugh that barked out was short and hurt to hear. Bones clapped Jim on the shoulder.

"There were times I seriously considered that neutering, Jim." Bones grinned toothily. "But it would have been for your own good. Really."

Jim glowered. Not funny. Bones just chuckled at his expression.

"It's okay, Jim," Bones said quietly and it reminded Jim of the many times Bones had told him that, pulled him out of the darkness Jim often fell into—willingly or not. It was always Bones, right there, telling him it was okay. Even now. How fucked up was that for Bones?

Bones straightened as if he came to a decision. "It'll just be like before, all right? Nothing's changed. We were roommates for over two years and I survived. Adam...Adam was a big mistake that I regretted but the only thing I regretted, well, since I joined Starfleet at least." Bones stuck an arm out past the curtain to draw it back. As the fabric hissed, opening wider, Bones paused and looked back at Jim.

"Don't worry about it, okay?" Bones hobbled out of the curtained area. "And get back on that bed. You're not being released yet."

"But..." Jim wasn't sure what he was protesting but Bones just gave him a lazy two fingered salute over his eyes before limping back to his office.

"Captain?" a nurse appeared to his left, Hahm or Han or something, a hand lightly touching his arm. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Jim turned and sighed.

"You know, I thought that's what was going to happen," Jim murmured, not sure why his stomach clenched.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** _For those of you wondering about the jump, there is a sequel/companion planned to fill in the gaps. Bones needed a turn to have his say. :)_

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Title:** Standby

**Author:** d8rkmessngr

**Pairing:** Kirk/McCoy

**Warnings:** implied past abuse, attempted non-con, strong language

**Author's Notes:** This was a prompt from st_xi_kink: st_anon, thank you for this meme and getting me into writing in this fandom!

* * *

Despite what Bones said, it _wasn't_ like before. Then again, if Bones _did_ come around acting like nothing had changed, then Jim might have gone nuts and maybe start swatting Spock's ass. (Bet _Nyota_ would have liked that.)

Two days of junior medics meekly handing in shift reports, two days of eating meals alone (it was then Jim realized how often they ate together in the Mess or in his quarters) and hearing Bones only through the coms like a ghost wandering the corridors. Jim had about enough. He wasn't sure why it was suddenly a big deal that Bones wasn't standing around in the Bridge, grumbling as usual. Or that every time Jim said something he thought was funny, his chest clenched every time he glanced over and Bones wasn't there. Jim should march into Sickbay and...and...

And what?

Jim idly sat in his command chair and watched the muddy brown planet spin languidly on its axis on screen. They were still orbiting the planet of bug people because they needed to retrieve the dead scientists, try to find all of them, because their families need something to bury under carved tombstones inscribed with "Beloved (Fill-In the Blank)".

His throat worked and he couldn't help but glance at the black beyond the planet and think about exploding starships and atomized corpses. Jim abruptly stood up and gave Spock the con and entered (escaped) his ready room. He sat down behind his desk and stared blankly at the walls of his ready room and thought how cool it might be to have some fish.

His mind was jumping like those antique pachinko machines. He thought about how the stone surface cut his cheek, how he couldn't distinguish faces in the death pit they found, how brick walls are cold against his back, how when Bones smiled his eyes seemed to get greener, how the callus on Bones's left thumb against his skin made the pit of his stomach warm and...

_"Sickbay. McCoy here,"_ Bones answered tiredly.

Jim blinked. He hadn't realized he'd activated the com.

_"Hello?"_

"He looked nothing like me," Jim blurted out. "And he called you Leonard like you were some old fart and...and...he was too slimy looking." Okay, that last one wasn't true.

There was a pregnant pause on the other end. Jim's left knee bounced under his desk.

There was a rustle, Bones distantly telling someone he was going into his office and the distinct beep of a channel transferring to a more private line.

_"What the hell, Jim?"_ Bones hissed.

"Oh," Jim said weakly. "Were you busy?"

Bones's response was really impolite.

Jim scratched his desk lightly with his fingers. He watched his fingerprint, a heated smudge on the polished surface fade until there was nothing left. Jim gulped.

_"Jim?"_ Bones asked, suddenly quiet, low like he was crouched by his ear again in a dark bathroom, trying to tug him back to the here and now.

Jim breathed out slowly.

"I don't think I want things to be like before," Jim muttered. He rubbed his hands on his thighs.

_"Oh."_ Bones fell silent. Seconds later, he cleared his throat.

_"Want me to transfer?"_

"No!" Jim startled himself by jumping to his feet.

Bones sounded surprised enough to stammer. _"Okay, then what?"_

Jim shot his com an irritated look. "I don't know."

There was a sigh. _"Me neither, Jim."_

And that pretty much summed up how fucked up this was.

* * *

The next time, after their 'talk' (Jim counted it as a talk even though decks lay between them), things between them went a little better.

Sort of.

"If you step in front of another charging, rabid, horned quadruped beast thing to save some foolish ensign who should have known better than to mess with its nest, I'm not patching you up again."

Jim hissed as Bones splayed a hand to brace his left shoulder blade while he rubbed a thumb into the spot where the ball joint met socket. Nurse Trip winced in sympathy, batted her brown eyes at him and passed Bones a hypospray like she just fluttered over a veil. She missed Bones rolling his eyes, didn't get why Jim sputtered out a laugh.

The rest of the away team had already been treated and released. It always felt like Bones saved him best for last even though Bones always treated him first, often hypospray in hand, waiting in the transporter room as soon as he'd beamed aboard. CMO's priority is to the ship's captain, he supposed.

"Ouch," Jim griped, mostly because he was trapped here and his First Officer still had the conn. He could only imagine the glee Spock was feeling as acting captain, rubbing his hands together thinking of all the logical ways he could do the captainly duties. In a very non-gleeful Vulcan way, of course.

Bones pursed his lips as he prodded the joint. He kept frowning, making Jim think maybe it was a lot worse than he thought, but then again, Bones _always_ acted like that.

Jim fidgeted. Bones had very warm hands that seemed to brand his skin even through his uniform. He used to get a funny feeling in his gut whenever Bones had put those hands on Adam because it was just _weirdfuckedupbizarre_ to see Bones with that guy.

"It's not dislocated. I know what that feels like," Jim mumbled, a little lightheaded by the sudden déjà vu that smacked him upside the head. Bones furrowed his brow. He'd made the connection too and guilt made him clear his throat and avert his eyes.

The corner of Jim's right eye twitched. Even now, Adam intruded. Jim was surprised at a rage he hadn't felt since he was thirteen, clutching the wheel of an antique car, steering for a quarry.

"Get a lot of those, do you, sir?" Nurse Trip teased, flirted and despite the bile that wanted to come up Jim's mouth, he smiled faintly back even as his shoulder throbbed.

"All my life," Jim joked weakly, thankful his voice was steady but Bones still gave Jim a meaningful look, a look everyone else around them might read as exasperation but read as something else entirely for Jim. And when no one was paying attention to them, Bones slipped a hand over his knee and gave it a brief squeeze. Jim thanked him with a curt nod. He didn't dare do anything more.

Jim found himself leaning towards Bones. He blinked, disconcerted, when Bones backed away to tell Nurse Trip to get something Jim couldn't pronounce. Jim watched Bones, his legs swinging over the edge of the biobed as he chewed his lower lip.

The past few months on the ship had slipped them into a new normal that echoed the Academy and despite what happened days before, Bones seemed to slip back into the role (Jim just couldn't seem to get back into his). This was what they did, now. Jim did all the things a captain needed to do to protect his ship and Bones bitched about Jim doing his job. And Bones was his usual acerbic self as always, as personable as a porcupine yet he always looked at Jim with a silent query before doing anything that might invite a bad memory. Because Bones _knew_. Not everything, but more than Jim had let anyone ever know about him. And Bones was still around despite all he'd learned.

That was good, right? He liked Bones as a friend. Three years in the Academy and Jim had gotten so used to the fact that Bones was going to be a constant in his life, he could barely remember a time when Bones wasn't. It was something that still set his insides twisting because acknowledging it, getting _used_ to it, could only jinx it.

Bones tsked as he waved his tricorder at Jim.

"And when were you going to tell me about that broken finger?" Bones grumbled as he lowered his tricorder.

Jim lifted his right hand up. He swung his hand a bit and grimaced when his index finger's bones slid the wrong way.

"Oh. Forgot."

"Forgot, my ass. You'll wander around the ship bleeding all over the place until someone mentions it. I ought to tag you and..."

Jim studied the top of Bones's head as his friend went on and on even as he held Jim's injured hand carefully with his right, the bone mender humming in his left as it floated over his hand.

This was Bones, Jim thought. This was the same. They were, just like before.

So why was Jim staring at his mouth, wondering if Bones still tasted like coffee?

* * *

Bones still obsessed with what Jim put in his mouth.

....

Okay, why did his gut feel funny thinking that just now?

"At least it's green," Bones muttered as he speared a broccoli and chomped down on it like it was a carrot. He scanned the Mess behind Jim as if he could see a germ coming.

Jim's mouth snapped shut and he considered the thin slivers of green flecked with red chili flakes. Whatever it was, it was spicy, crunchy and dripping with something sweet so Jim forgave it of its possible origins.

"It's good," Jim mumbled as he shoveled another forkful in his mouth. He nodded solemnly as Scotty darted by to grab yet another sandwich (third so far this shift) because the engineer claimed working in the engine room gave him an appetite.

"Dammit, Jim, were you raised in a barn? Keep your mouth closed." Bones made a face, nudged Jim's tea closer to him. "Wash that down with this."

"Thought you want my mouth closed," Jim remarked, smirking as he drank. No beer, just smelly tea because Bones was currently concerned with a new strain of strep throat going around engineering. Jim was allergic to the vaccine. Big surprise.

Bones glowered, pushed the bitter tea closer towards Jim, and went back to his eggplant whatever thing he tried to get Jim to order instead of the medium rare burger. The medium rare was a compromise since their second year. Bones thought Jim should eat meat well done; Jim wanted it to still be mooing.

Jim watched Bones cut up his eggplant into neat little pieces, always a surgeon, and he absently thought about how careful Bones's hands would be on his body. Precise strokes gliding across skin, a nail gently scratching the underside of his co—

"I told you to keep your mouth closed," Bones scolded when Jim sputtered. Jim held up a hand because the last thing he needed was Bones's hand pounding his back.

"Spicy," Jim wheezed and he grabbed his tea and drained his mug and that _really_ didn't help because it tasted like how his tongue got after a hangover.

"For crying out loud."

This time, Bones did pound his back, neatly avoiding the spew of tea as he leapt up to stand over Jim. What made it worse were the scattered crewmen standing up from their seats with growing alarm.

"Okay, okay," Jim wheezed. He wasn't really, but when Bones backed away, everyone returned to their seats, no longer looking like a red alert was just issued.

"Better?" Bones had his damn tricorder out again. Always with that tricorder. Did Bones sleep with it? Oh, that was a thought he shouldn't have had.

"Your body temp's up three degrees," Bones noted. "Not surprising after choking on seaweed salad."

Jim eyed the green death trap on his tray with disgust now. "Well, I lost my appetite," Jim grumbled.

Bones scoffed as he dropped down back into his seat. "Good. You wouldn't want me to perform mouth to mouth over seaweed anyway."

The memory of stubble against his jaw floated over him and his mouth went dry. Jim smiled weakly. "Yeah, wouldn't want that."

Liar, liar.

* * *

He still tasted blood when he woke up for the fifth time two evenings later and it wasn't clear whose name was stuck in his throat, whether he was warning him or her back, or pleading for them to come forward. He stared into the dark, his voice too dry, too raw to form the command for the lights. In the dark, his memories tasting sour in his mouth, Jim couldn't breathe.

Jim found himself standing in Bones's office minutes later, barefoot, his sweats clinging to his sweat-dampened skin. He stood there, staring at Bones's bowed head, hunched over a scope, his fingers drumming the PADD recording his experiment. Jim kept staring, not sure why he was staring in the first place, not sure why he didn't just go back to sleep.

"God, Jim!" Bones yelped when he finally looked up and he reared back, a hand grabbing his chest. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I'm the only doctor on duty this shift!" Bones narrowed his eyes when he got a better look at Jim.

"What?"

Jim opened his mouth, closed it then suddenly became very aware of the fact that the sweatpants he currently wore hadn't fit him right since Adam put him in the hospital for a second time, since Bones told Jim that he wouldn't be able to get rid of Bones that easily, since Frank showed up in his head after...after...

"I can't sleep," Jim blurted out and damn it, he sounded five except he'd never sounded like that even when he _was_ five. His brother used to clamp his mouth shut, hissing to him to shut his whining before he woke Frank up.

Bones said nothing about Jim reverting to an age Jim never truly knew. He studied Jim, an unreadable expression on his face and there was this weird, cold feeling that Bones was going to suddenly say that he'd never believed Jim after all.

"I never liked Adam. I don't know why, but I didn't ever since you two were—I mean...I just didn't like him," Jim stumbled out next. He froze. What the fuck was with his verbal diarrhea tonight? Jim snorted in self-disgust and turned away.

"You know what? Never mind. I—" Jim blinked when Bones suddenly appeared next to him.

Bones didn't smile, didn't frown but he looked at Jim like he knew what Jim was going to say even if Jim didn't know himself. That's how it always was. Sometimes Jim never even had to say anything. Damn annoying. It was like Bones was perched at his shoulder.

"Bad?" Bones rumbled because this had happened too many times before to waste time on questions anymore.

Jim shrugged. Suddenly, he realized what a weak ass he must look like, standing in the middle of the room. He stood up taller and coughed.

"Look, got bored, figured I'd come in here and see what you're doing." Jim grinned as wide as he could. "Figured _that_ would put me to sleep."

The corner of Bones's mouth quirked. "That bad, huh?"

Jim was grateful Bones didn't at least ask who it was this time. The fact that there was a list was bad enough.

"I could give you a sed—"

"No," Jim said sharply and he jerked away from Bones's steadying grip. "I just—I just couldn't sleep so I thought I would—"

"Come and make sure _I_ don't get anything done." Bones rolled his eyes. "I know, I know. Every exam time you were popping up everywhere to make my life miserable."

Jim's smile faded but then Bones shook his elbow with a snort to show he was kidding.

"Cot or chair?" Bones murmured, sobering. He nodded towards the narrow bed Bones often used during long shifts behind his chair, when leaving Sickbay meant giving up on a patient.

Jim's shoulders sagged. "Chair," he yawned.

"Cot it is," Bones, as usual, cheerfully vetoed Jim. He smirked as he steered Jim to the cot and all but pushed him on it, grinning when Jim fell into the flimsy furniture with an _oof_.

"Just who's captain of this ship anyway?" Jim grumbled.

"Luckily, it isn't me," Bones declared as he tossed a pillow towards Jim's head. "You snore and I'm throwing water on you again."

"I don't snore," Jim growled half-heartedly and he glowered at Bones because second year, when Bones poured water over him, the fucking bucket was _cold_. He dropped with a disgruntled face as he laid across the cot. He stared at Bones's back from his new position. Bones never said anything else, just returned to his research. Were the lights dimmer now, though?

Jim thought about how many times he woke up to find Bones hunched over a PADD in their dorm room, across in his bed, never commenting about how Jim would suddenly sit up, gasping for air. Bones would just sit there, reading under his breath until Jim went right back to a dreamless sleep. It wasn't every day (he would fucking go insane if it was), but enough times that it was almost automatic between them the longer they stayed roommates.

"Was it Adam?" Bones asked quietly. He never turned around.

Jim folded his hands behind his head. He didn't know how to say he simply didn't know so he just grunted.

Bones sighed. "Hell, I am sorry, Jim."

"Wasn't your fault," Jim murmured as he watched Bones's shoulders sag, then straighten. "You can't help having bad taste in men—well, excluding me."

There was a snort.

Jim ran the tip of his tongue across his lower lip. He stared at the neckline of Bones's blue uniform.

"Is this enough though?" Jim asked hesitantly. He blinked at the blurry profile swiveling around to him. "Right now? I mean, you dated Adam because—"

"It is," Bones interrupted harshly as if he didn't want to hear the rest. "How about you? You okay about this? _We_ okay?"

Jim yawned and thought he felt a hand on his hair. Mm. Jim shrugged deeper into the cot.

"Sure," Jim slurred but wasn't sure why it felt like a lie. "I don't want you to go because of this," he mumbled. Jim grimaced because it sounded pathetic out loud.

"Go where? We're in space and Sulu's driving wherever you point." This time, Jim was sure he felt a hand in his hair. "I told you. I'm staying so long as you're okay about all this."

"'m okay." Jim tried to widen his eyes. "I just didn't like Adam."

"So you told me. Honestly, I don't blame you after what he tried."

"No, I mean...before...before..." Jim's tongue felt thick and stuck to the roof of his mouth. Jim blinked blearily up at Bones. "He said I was leading him on." Jim turned his head and pressed his cheek to the pillow that smelled faintly like Bones. It loosened his tongue further.

"Maybe I did," Jim confessed and his chest tightened. "I wasn't exactly a shy sort of guy."

Bones sighed. He turned completely around and rested his elbows on his knees as he studied Jim.

"No," Bones agreed, "you're definitely not shy." His voice deepened. "But that doesn't excuse him for what he tried to do," Bones blew out sharply. He shook his head.

"Get some sleep, Jim."

Jim watched Bones with half-mast eyes and a stirring in his chest he hadn't felt in a long time. "I should go back to my quarters," Jim slurred.

Bones shrugged as he turned back around. "Go right ahead."

"This bed sucks," Jim added with a lisp at the end.

"Uh huh."

"And it smells funny."

Bones snorted.

"Maybe just a few minutes though," Jim yawned. "Keep you company. Gamma shift sucks."

"Thanks," Bones drawled.

"Mm," Jim murmured as his eyes drifted shut. His limbs tensed, readying for yet another night visitor but then he felt something warm and heavy draped over him. He felt himself smile, thought he could see Bones in his mind and he relaxed into a dreamless sleep. This time, Jim fully expected to see Bones when he woke up and oddly enough, that was okay.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

**Title:** Standby

**Author:** d8rkmessngr

**Pairing:** Kirk/McCoy

**Warnings: **implied past abuse, attempted non-con, strong language

**Author's Notes:** This was a prompt from st_xi_kink: st_anon, thank you for this meme and getting me into writing in this fandom! The complete prompt is on the bottom. Thank you all for your reviews and your support!

* * *

It was a total of nine days and two hours later before Jim finally had his epiphany. Two hours because that's how long he stared at Adam's photo and the file the computer had pulled up in his quarters after his shift. It was like that missing line of code slotted in and suddenly, _everything_ made sense. Holy shit.

A quick punch of keys, a few short beeps and Jim strode through as soon as Bones's door slid open. The great thing about being captain was the master code he got that unlocked everything.

"I figured out why I didn't like Adam," Jim declared by way of entering. "He—" He skidded to a halt.

"Jim!" Bones bellowed, which was pretty impressive considering he stood there in only a tiny towel, dark hair still dripping wet. "_What the hell?_"

"Oh," Jim bleated. His knees wobbled. He stared at the defined torso that twisted around to grab a pair of clean shorts and sweatpants from the bed.

"It's not like we never walked in on each other before," Jim protested faintly. He averted his eyes, though, as Bones pulled up his briefs and Jim tried to keep his eyes on the ceiling but after a peek (he just wanted to see if Bones was done, that's all), Jim was riveted to the muscular ass now in front of him as Bones hurriedly hopped into his pants.

"That was before!" Bones seemed to have trouble getting his right leg through completely and his jumping did interesting things in front of Jim.

"B-before?" Jim swallowed, his mouth dry because really, he knew Bones was fit (he wasn't lying about walking in on each other back then), but _shit_.

"Before we..." Bones balanced on one leg, kicking out the other furiously. "Damn it!"

"Want some help?" Jim offered weakly.

Bones froze and glared at him through a flop of wet hair and oh, God, Jim felt a stirring deep in his belly.

"What couldn't wait," Bones growled as he shimmied—_fuck_—into the sweatpants with a lazy roll of hips that made Jim a little lightheaded, "until I was properly dressed?"

"Well, don't get dressed up on my account," Jim quipped and he hoped the grin he gave wasn't too hysterical.

Bones scoffed. "I never do." He tugged the pants past his hips, yanked at the tie strings and he gestured at Jim as he grabbed a t-shirt Jim recognized from back in the Academy.

"Go on. You were about to share with me some of that patented Jim Kirk wisdom." Bones was muffled as he stuck his head into his top.

"I said I know why I hated Adam now," Jim said as he stared at Bones's exposed stomach and the light sprinkle of hair pointing downwards in invitation. His Adam's apple bobbed and he forced himself to stare past Bones's shoulder.

Bones's head popped through the neckline. "You mean besides the fact he was a bastard who couldn't take no for an answer?"

Jim made a face, partially because of Adam, partially because Bones was now slipping on socks.

"No, because he was dating you." Jim grinned because, hey, _big_ revelation and he hadn't felt this...high since space diving the very first time. He was the only one in his class who didn't vomit inside his helmet after twenty five thousand feet.

"You mean because I was dating him," Bones corrected as he vigorously scrubbed his hair dry with a towel.

Jim's smile faded. Come on, Bones, try and keep up.

"No," Jim said slowly, "because he was dating _you_."

The towel froze, hiding Bones's face.

"Oh."

"Oh?" Jim bristled. "That's it? I just told you—"

"I know what you just told me," Bones huffed as he padded over to his desk and grabbed the bourbon he got from Scotty after beating his ass in poker. Jim's brow rose when Bones poured himself a generous amount and gulped it down in one shot. Bones hissed at the burn, waved his empty glass at Jim.

"So you're telling me..."

"I didn't like that he was dating you." Jim shrugged. "This was before we knew he was an ass, before...everything. I didn't like him way before that. Now I know why."

Bones stared at Jim, then poured himself another glass which he downed just as quickly.

Jim scowled. "You know, I rather you stay sober for this conversation, Bones."

"I'm not drunk," Bones wheezed. "Not yet. Damn it, Jim. Look I know that kiss had bothered you—"

"It didn't," Jim cut him off.

"Huh?"

Jim gestured towards Bones, then himself. "I mean, it should, right? I think I was more bothered by the fact that I _wasn't_ bothered by it." Jim took a deep breath.

"I want to give this a try, Bones." Jim grinned at him. "Us two."

Bones gaped at him, his throat working before he opened his mouth and hoarsely said, "No."

No? Jim scowled at Bones. He wasn't expecting Bones to fling his arms around Jim (that would have been weird), but he thought that Bones would be happy, at least.

"Jim, you're—I don't know what the hell you're thinking—but you've never wanted this _thing_ before."

"I didn't know we had this _thing_ before," Jim argued.

Bones's eyebrows shot up in an "ah hah" expression. "Exactly. So what? Now you're interested? Just like that?" Bones dropped to the edge of his bed, glass at hand. He shook his head at Jim.

"Things don't happen like that, Jim."

Now _Jim_ needed a drink. He poured himself a glass and refilled Bones's before continuing.

"It wasn't 'just like that'," Jim said, sobering. He sat down next to Bones and stared into his glass.

"Look, you...you're my best friend," Jim tried, "you are the one person who really did stick around and...I...I trust you, Bones." Jim blinked. Actually, he did. Huh.

"Thanks," Bones rasped. He bumped shoulders with Jim. Jim nudged him back.

"I think there was always something there," Jim went on, haltingly, "but I didn't really know _what_ it was until now."

"And that is?" Bones prodded.

Jim squirmed. Being called out by the Council about his third _Kobayashi Maru_ was easier.

"I think of you as more than just my best friend," Jim confessed, his voice dropping to a whisper, "but Bones, I really don't know what it is because inside me." Jim opened his hands, his glass sloshing as he waved his hands helplessly. He swallowed. "I'm just so screwed up, I know that. Ship, being here in space, it gets better, but I know I'm not...I'm not _there_ yet. I...I don't know what to call it, but I do know I want more between us." Jim dared to raise his eyes at Bones.

Bones stared at Jim for a long time, studying him as if peeling away the layers. He turned back and took a sip of bourbon, rolled it around his mouth before he laughed to himself.

"What?"

"Damn it, I shouldn't, but yeah, all right, let's give this a try. We shouldn't, hell, I was finally convinced that it would never happen but okay."

Jim's mouth curved. "Yeah?"

Bones scoffed. He still looked a little like he was in disbelief, but he was smiling. "Yeah." He shook his head and tilted his glass back.

Jim watched that throat work as he swallowed. He gave Bones's bed a tentative bounce, waited, his knee jittering until finally:

"So you gonna fuck me or what?"

Luckily, Bones wasn't facing him when he choked on his drink.

"What?" Bones managed as he dropped his glass to the floor and grabbed his nose. "Christ that burns—_What?_" Bones glared at Jim with bloodshot eyes.

Jim grinned sheepishly and waggled his eyebrows as he patted the bed.

"Dammit, Jim. When you said give it a try, I thought you meant like a date or something, not a fucking test drive!" Bones glowered at Jim, his hands still clamped over his nose.

Even nasally, Bones still managed to sound annoyed. "Do you know what a waste of good bourbon that was going up my nose?"

Jim winced. He gave Bones an easy smile but Bones still looked ready to rampage.

"Sorry, hey, we've been hanging out all this time, like doing _everything_, doesn't that count as dating already? I mean—what are you doing?" Jim started when Bones leaned forward.

Bones huffed as he scowled. "Will you hold still, damn it? I'm trying to kiss you but not if you're twitching like you have the Rigillean shak—mmpf!"

It was decided, Jim thought, that since Bones had instigated the first kiss, it was only fair that Jim started this one. Before Bones could continue his rant, Jim surged forward, their glasses tumbling to the floor and sealed his mouth over Bones's, his hands already greedily cupping the back of his head, fingers tangled in still damp hair.

Bones tensed at first, but with a rumble that originated deep within his throat and vibrated into Jim to pool in his belly, he pressed forward. His mouth was possessive, demanding, scraping teeth across Jim's lower lip, his warm hands mapping Jim's back with sure touches that thrummed down Jim's spine.

And Jim didn't _whimper_ when Bones's hands snaked over to grip his thighs, his thumbs massaging deep into his thighs to coax them to part. Jim also didn't moan Bones's name when he felt surgeon's hands, sure and confident to the point of arrogance, slipping into his snug trousers to cup his buttocks.

Somewhere, somehow, Jim found himself on his back, his trousers bunched around his ankles, trying to match thrust for thrust against Bones as his cock glided against his, hot, rigid and leaking. Jim didn't whimper again when he felt a finger ghost his entrance, circling the tight opening with such a tease. Jim slammed up his hips, crashing against Bones's erection hard enough that Bones groaned his name.

Jim felt fingers tracing his mouth, his collarbone, down the ridged indents of his ribs before curling around his cock and damn it, that callus on Bones's thumb rubbed over the head of his cock, his other fingers grasping him firmly as Jim arched his back.

"I got you, I got you," Bones drawled as he pumped Jim with a sure pace as if he'd done this with Jim a thousand times, his other hand slipping underneath to caress the sensitive entrance with a finger before breaching, preparing, torturing.

Jim groaned out something that could have been "bastard" but ended up being a hungry "Bones" as he felt himself stretched, filled and something just fucking clicked when Bones slid in completely, chest against chest, mouth now breathing hit and moist on his throat.

Even as his head spun, Jim managed to move his legs up, locked his ankles behind Bones's still-damn back and pull him in, a silent demand for more. Bones obliged, if not directly to his request, his eyes glazed as he rocked into Jim's body, his mouth set in concentration as if he was trying to memorize each stroke, each touch.

Jim's body ached with the initial burn. Then he grew heady with the sensation of being sealed into another life and wanted, cherished, devoured. He jerked when Bones pulled back, rejoiced when the _pain/pleasure_ returned in full force.

Jim snaked a hand between them and when Bones groaned at Jim's touch, Jim felt it deep within him. He was sure even Bones could feel it, humming, vibrating his body like an instrument. But that was all forgotten when Bones began rolling his hips, hitting a new angle that had Jim convulsing with the need for more.

"Mine," Jim panted as he pulled Bones's head lower. Bones grunted in agreement even as he picked up his pace and _ohgodharderdeeperdon'tevergo_ flared under Jim's skin and it felt like he was _boiling_. Jim pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses down Bones's throat, a hardened nipple, his left bicep, any place he could reach as they rocked across the bed, too tangled into each other to part.

Heat collected in Jim's groin as Bones's hips snapped forward, diving deeper and harder into Jim, harder still at Jim's gasped encouragements, faster as Jim palmed Bones's ass, holding on as each stroke lifted him off the bed and higher to oblivion.

"Mine," Bones hissed, partially because he was breathless, mostly to voice the triumphant gleam that darkened his eyes as he stared at Jim. "Mine, dammit," Bones grunted and he punctuated his claim with one final push that slapped Jim against the bed, sent bolts of heat into Jim and it felt like Bones _nailed_ him into the bed, forbidding him to go.

Jim came wordlessly, his fingers drawing blood as they dug into Bones's shoulders. His body clenched, Bones gasped and heat flooded inside Jim, painting him, marking him.

_Mine_, Jim thought drowsily as Bones collapsed on top of him, heaving, half-slurred obscenities breathed out into the shell of his ear. Jim pressed his flushed face against Bones's brow. He licked the line of sweat trailing down the profile of a face Jim had always known, never realized he knew but was sure he would be content (he dared to think it was possible to feel that way) to study this profile forever.

"To think," Jim said low, husky as he drew a lazy smirk against Bones's ear, "if you weren't such an idiot back then, we could have had the best sex in the fucking universe for over two years now."

Bones, still winded, huffed against his throat. "Got a lot..." Bones panted, "to make up for...two years, huh?"

Jim rubbed a strand of dark bangs between two fingers and was tempted to taste it.

"You think you might stick around for that?" Jim asked casually.

There was a heated hardness pressed against his thigh, a dark smile, sly hands slipping down his body and Jim felt something uncoil deep in his chest.

"Try to keep me away," Bones whispered before he descended down to seal his mouth over Jim's in promise.

* * *

The End

* * *

**Author's Notes:** _For those of you wondering about the jump, there is a sequel/companion planned to fill in the gaps. Bones needed a turn to have his say. :) The sequel "Reinventing Pavlov" which fills in the Academy years in Bones's POV is being drafted and still needs to be edited but hopefully it'll be up in six weeks!_

**Prompt: **_During their academy time, Bones doesn't really date. After a year or two, Bones finally gets a boyfriend - a very hot boyfriend. Jim is very surprised, mostly at how much he immediately hates the guy. He tries to be a good friend and like the dude, takes him drinking, etc. Inside, he is coming to terms with the fact that he is pissed as hell that Bones is dating anyone but him._

The first moment that boyfriend dude and Jim are alone? Boyfriend is all over Jim. Jim rejects him, which pisses boyfriend off. He threatens to tell McCoy that Jim seduced him if Jim doesn't have sex with him. Jim still rejects him and, not knowing what to do, bolts. He avoids Bones for a few days, assuming that Bones will believe boyfriend dude and be pissed at him.

Finally, the truth comes out, Jim makes his move on Bones, and they have happy, you're-all-mine sex.

Bonus if Bones never really doubted Jim and was suspicious of boyfriend dude as soon as he accused Jim.


End file.
